


the truth about my disguise

by mikaeloboukhal



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Ableist Language, Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Kinda?, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Slow Burn, eventual sexual content but nothing too explicit lmao
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-13
Updated: 2017-11-08
Packaged: 2018-12-27 17:34:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 57,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12085941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikaeloboukhal/pseuds/mikaeloboukhal
Summary: Since the day Isak was seven and stepped into Even's room, they had always been best friends. Isak doesn't think that'll ever change.or, the AU where Isak and Even are childhood best friends and that's the only thing Isak is completely sure of in his life.





	1. one

**Author's Note:**

> So, here's my attempt at saving the dying ao3 skam tag, lmao. No, seriously, childhood friends AU's are my all time fav so i thought, hey!!! im gonna go ahead and write my own. Hopefully someone somewhere like it as well lmao.
> 
> So this is 14,5k words and be aware that this fic probably starts out a little angsty, but it'll get better with the other chapters i promise!!  
> As it looks right now it'll probably be 4 chapters but i'm not 100 percent sure yet, aaand what else? sorry for any mistakes and such, i just...suck. that's it. 
> 
> please let me know if you enjoyed it and if i should bother keep going because i'm very insecure lmao, anyway, i really hope you enjoy this!
> 
> (also! title from bad religion by frank ocean. the most iconic song honestly)

He’s been sitting on Even’s porch for twenty minutes.

Isak is just about to type out something close to a death treat to Even, to say that he needs to get his ass home sometime  _this year_ , when a car pulls up on the driveway. Even’s mother climbs out, her face immediately lights up in a familiar smile when she spots Isak where he’s sitting.

“Hi, Isak!” Mona greets him. She takes out a grocery bag and starts walking toward Isak. “Waiting for Even?”

Isak smiles. “Yeah.” He nods. “He’s not the fastest at biking there is.”

Even’s mother laughs and nods in agreement. “He’s not, you’re right.” She walks up to the door and unlocks it. “Well, come on in, I’m sure he’ll be home soon.”

Isak stands up and walks in behind Mona, helps her unpack the groceries in the kitchen and receives a peck on the cheek for the help when they’re done.

He walks the steps up to Even’s room then and throws his backpack on his usual spot on the floor.

The memory of when Isak first stepped his foot into his room is still fresh in his mind.

His parents were going out of town, and his mother who happened to be close friends with Even’s, had asked Mona if Isak could stay there for the night. Seven year-old Isak was happy to. He’d met with Mona before and he was fond of her; she had nice eyes and a warm smile and she’d always been kind to him.

And so Isak’s mother dropped him off, gave him a kiss on the cheek and told him to call before he went to bed. Mona had given him a hug, and then walked with Isak to the living room where a boy sat in front of the TV. Isak was aware that Mona had a son but he’d never met him.

“Even,” Mona began. “This is Isak.”

The boy looked up, blue eyes meeting Isak’s own. Isak remembers feeling a little insecure then, Even  _was_  two years older, after all.

As it turned out, Isak didn’t need to be scared. Even just asked him if he liked cartoons and Isak had nodded hesitantly and sat down beside Even on the floor.

Isak didn’t want to go home the day after that and so he spent the night again. It was the easiest thing, their friendship, just came naturally, like it was written in the stars.

And that was it, really. It’s been the two of them since.

Isak walks up to Even’s desk and lets his eyes wander over the countless drawings hanging over it. Some of them Even put a lot of thought and time into, Isak can tell, but some of them are downright ridiculous, like the one Isak is currently staring at.

It’s a white paper sheet with a picture of Even himself glued to the middle of it, surrounding the photograph is nothing other than about thirty pencil drawn dicks (It’s Even,  _of course_ there’s dicks) and on top of the sheet Even has written  _BALLin’ since 1997_  in big, yellow letters.

Isak can’t help but grin and wonder  _why_  exactly he ended up with the biggest nerd in Oslo as his best friend. He also knows he wouldn’t trade him for anybody else, ever. He doesn’t think he’ll ever give Even the pleasure of telling him that, though.

“Admiring my art, I see?”

Isak turns his head to the right, watches as Even enters the room and throws his backpack on the ground.

“You wish.” He huffs, and turns his attention back to the drawings. This time, his eyes lands on something that looks like a dog but in the body of a giraffe. He frowns and looks at Even again.

“You’re very strange, you’re aware, right?” He asks, the corner of his mouth turning upwards.

Even flops onto the bed, leans on his elbow and raises his eyebrows at Isak.

“Your undeveloped, thirteen year old-brain just doesn’t know anything about art.” Even answers simply.

“How come you never draw me, anyway?” Isak asks, then he walks over and jumps on top of Even’s leg with so much force he’s sure it had to hurt. From the way Even groans and slaps at Isak’s arm, he knows it did. “I’m probably, like, the most important person in your life and you haven’t even drawn me  _once_?” Isak shakes his head in despair. “That’s outrageous.”

“What are you talking about?” Even asks, seemingly offended. He shoves Isak of his legs and walks up to his desk. “I  _have_ drawn you! Right here.”

Isak’s eyes follows where Even is pointing to, and – wow.  _Wow._ He truly doesn’t know why he’s friends with this jerk anymore. Even is proudly gesturing towards a drawing of some kind of hideous green, vile looking creature with huge fangs and claws. Isak averts his gaze back to his best friend, who looks  _way_  too pleased with himself for Isak’s liking, so he chucks a pillow at Even which hits him right in the face. Even does nothing but laugh.

“Funny. Really. People would pay great money to hire you as a comedian.” Isak mutters.

Even, the asshole, throws the pillow back at Isak’s face before he can shield himself. “Right?” Even begins. “That’s always been one of my career choices. It’s either that, or Isak’s personal annoyer.”

Isak rolls his eyes, sighs and then cocks a questioning brow toward Even. “How do you plan on getting payed to be my personal annoyer?”

Even grins then shrugs carelessly. “I’ll find a way.” He says. “Surely, there  _has_  to be someone out there that wants you to be annoyed constantly. I’ll do it for free otherwise.”

Isak gives him a look. “You’re already doing it for free.”

Even laughs loudly and walks over to sit down on the bed beside Isak. “Anyway, you little grump,” He begins. “You’re still on for cabin this weekend, right?”

Isak stills.

During the six years that they’d known each other, Even’s parents always invited Isak and his family over to their cabin one weekend in September. This year, however, Isak would be the only one to join.

He’s not sure if Even knows the reason why. Isak hasn’t told him anything, mostly because he’s not even sure himself. All Isak know is that something is off with his parents. There’s an unknown tension in the air between the walls of his home but he can’t pinpoint  _what_  exactly it is that had changed. Some nights he’d wake up to loud voices and doors slamming but no one ever spoke about it.

His parents were acting as if everything was normal, so that’s what Isak did, too.

“Isak?” Even says, and that’s when Isak realizes he hasn’t answered him yet. He makes the mistake of looking right into Even’s eyes, and immediately he spots that look Even had been giving him lately. Isak can’t tell if it’s confusion or sympathy or both, so he turns his gaze away as soon as he meets Even’s icy blue one.

“Yeah.” Isak responds, staring down at his lap. “Yeah, I’m on.”

Even nods. “Great. It’ll be awesome.” He says, nudging his shoulder with Isak’s.

Isak smiles, or tries to at least, but he’s fairly certain he doesn’t succeed very well.

He hates the way his facial expressions are failing him right now because Isak is  _fine,_  a little confused maybe, but he’s  _fine._ His mind knows this, but it’s like his body  _doesn’t,_  because he can feel the way his shoulders are slumped and his eyes being unable to respond when he tries to smile. This wouldn’t really be a problem, he guesses, if it wasn’t for the fact that Even had the tendency to notice everything about Isak right away. Now, Isak can practically  _feel_ Even’s brain starting to overthink, or worry, or whatever it is that he does.

When he looks up at Even, a small crease has indeed formed in-between his brows, just like Isak knew it would. It’s a little scary, almost, Isak thinks. How good they know each other.

Even doesn’t need to worry, Isak wants to say. He doesn’t want the concerned eyes or carefully spoken words.

Parents fight, right? All of them. They’ll be fine. Work it out, or whatever.

Even starts to open his mouth, and although Isak doesn’t know exactly what it is Even wants to say, he  _does_  know that it’s something that he doesn’t want to hear.   

“Do you want to get crushed in FIFA today, or?” Isak asks as quick as he possibly can, before Even can even get a word out.

Even looks defeated, disappointed almost, and Isak thinks he can hear him sigh. But then he nods.

“Yeah. Sure.” He says.

-

In the end, the one who ends up getting crushed is Isak. No one expected anything else, either.

Even puts down his controller and looks at Isak with a grin so big it takes up his whole face.

“When are you going to take back your dignity and stop thinking you can beat me?” He asks.

Isak rolls his eyes, but can’t fight the smile that creeps up on his face. “Never. I’m in a rough patch right now, just wait, I’ll be back soon.”

Even laughs. “Yeah. That’s what you’ve been saying for the past two years.”

Isak is just about to roll his eyes again, when he feels the buzzing of his phone in his pocket. He fishes it out of his pants and looks at the display. It’s his mother.

If it was any other mother on this planet, hell, even if it was his  _own_ mother six months ago, Isak thinks it would probably be a text to check up on her son or ask him where he is.

But this isn’t any other mother. This is Isak’s mother, present day.

Isak skims his eyes over the bible verse his mother sent, doesn’t bother reading it fully, and locks his phone again but continues to stare at the black display.

They started coming a month ago, or something. Isak isn’t really counting the days. He doesn’t understand where his mothers sudden religious obsession is coming from. She had always been religious (which Isak, if he’s being honest, has never been a fan of), but over the past weeks it’s just  _different._  Everything is different.

When he hears Even clear his throat from beside him, Isak looks up.

He’s looking at Isak like  _that_  again. Like he wants to understand. Like he wants to ask a thousand questions.

But he doesn’t push. Even never does.

-

Three days later, they’re on their way to Even’s cabin.

The ride there is a mixture of trying to guess which songs Even is humming along to and laughing so much Isak thinks he’s going to pass out. It’s nice like this. When it’s nothing on his mind but Even’s stupid jokes and Even’s mom’s  _extraordinary_  brownies.

After they’ve had dinner, played scrabble with Even’s parents and looked at ugly baby pictures of Even (some of them were pretty cute, Isak supposes, but he wouldn’t admit that), they made their way onto the outdoor fireplace, equipped with two sticks and a bowl of marshmallows.

As it turns out, Even sucks at toasting marshmallows. They all melt too much or turns into as close to coal as they possibly can.

Isak laughs when Even throws away his sixth one.

“Stop laughing at me!” Even exclaims, but then he joins in on the laugh, too. He’s just about to put his seventh marshmallow on his stick when Isak sticks his own in front of Even’s face.

“Take this one. I can’t stand to watch another one of your miserable failures.”

Even grins. “Thanks.” He says, and then opens his mouth to take the marshmallow from the stick. He gets white goo around his mouth as he does, and Isak smiles at how stupid he looks.

A comfortable silence falls among them. The fire makes crackling noises in the quiet night and Isak feels – he feels  _calm_. It’s strange that calm is such a rare feeling for Isak nowadays. He feels constantly on edge, somehow, like he can never really relax. But here, now, with Even, he’s calm. Like, dictionary definition calm.

Even breaks the silence. “Do you think there are aliens out there?” He asks, gazing up at the starred sky.

Isak mimics him and tilts his head up. He furrows his brows. “I don’t know. I think…” He makes a pause. “I think maybe I like the thought of it, at least.” He says to the sky.

Even turns his head to look at Isak. “Why?”

Isak shrugs, still looking at what’s above him. “I guess because…because, doesn’t it make you feel a little lonely if we are the only things that exists? In the whole universe?”

He looks at Even then, who looks like he’s in deep thought. “Well, that depends, do you think that aliens are the only thing that could exist except us in the universe?”

Isak shakes his head. “No. Or, I mean, there are like…plenty of parallel universes out there.” He says.

Even raises his eyebrows. “Yeah? What happens in them, then?”

Isak thinks for a moment. Imagines all the possibilities he’d have in another universe. About how perhaps in a parallel universe his family wouldn’t stay home during this trip. Maybe he’d never even met Even in another universe. He shouldn’t think like that, he’s awaree. He doesn’t exist in another universe, and he’ll never will. He has to work with what he’s gotten here.

“Well, for one, I hope you’re better at toasting marshmallows.” He answers, grinning proudly.

Even laughs at that, and shoves at Isak’s side. “I’d say that I hope you’re not a jerk in those universes, but I think the chances of that are small.”

Isak rolls his eyes and kicks at Even’s ankle. “Fuck you.” He puts another marshmallow on his stick and places it over the fire.

They’re quiet for a while, before Even speaks up again.

“But, whether aliens or parallel universes exists or not, you know that…” Even pauses. His voice is low and he sounds a little hesitant. He shifts a little where he sits and Isak turns his head to look at him. There’s an uncertain type of look in his eyes, a carefulness that Isak isn’t sure he likes very much. “You know that you’re not alone, right? That I’m here?”

Something tugs at Isak’s heart at that and he’s not sure what it is. He’s aware that Even probably wants him to open up, tell him what’s on his mind, or whatever. Thing is, he’s not sure what he would say. He doesn’t know what’s wrong, if there even  _is_ something that’s wrong. He’s just confused, and he’s  _tired_.

So he swallows the sudden lump in his throat, and he nods.

“Yeah,” He breathes out, staring at the marshmallow over the flames. It’s starting to burn. “Okay.”

-

Going to sleep that night is hard for some reason. Isak keeps tossing and turning and he knows Even is disturbed by it. He’s in the bed on the other side of the room, the room Isak usually spends with his parents when he’s here. Even has his own room in the cabin, but he decided he’d sleep in the guest room too, even though Isak had insisted he was fine by himself.

So now, when Isak keeps turning around and sighing and making noise, he can’t help but feel like shit knowing that he’s keeping Even up.

At two am, Isak is close to giving up on sleeping at all, and lets out a sigh for what feels like the millionth time that night.

“You know, you can just go to your own room if I’m bothering you. I won’t mind.’’ Isak says, breaking the silence in the room.

There’s no response from the other side of the room first, but then he hears Even shuffle around in his bed and then the sound of feet meeting floor. Even walks across the room, and from what Isak can tell he’s digging in his backpack. Then suddenly, Isak feels his presence on the edge of his bed.

“Scoot over.” Even casually says, and Isak almost freezes but does as he’s told, and then Even is sliding in under the covers beside him.

Isak moves to lay on his side to make space in the small bed once Even has climbed in. “Jesus Christ,” Isak mutters. “how are your legs so fucking long?”

Even’s only response is to chuckle, before he mimics Isak’s position and gets on his side.

“I have something for you.” Even says.

Isak raises his brows even though Even can’t see him in the pitch black room.

Before he can answer, there’s a sudden light in the room coming from the flashlight in Even’s phone. Isak squints his eyes at the unexpected brightness, and then spots a box that Even has placed in between them.

“Open.” Even encourages him, nodding towards the box while holding his phone in the air for them to be able to see.

Isak scrunches his eyebrows together in confusion, but once again does as Even says. When he opens the lid, he spots what looks like a couple of folded papers. He looks up at Even, who nods again as if to tell him to go on. Isak picks up one of the papers and gently unfolds it.

And it’s…it’s  _Isak_. It’s a drawing of himself. He’s wearing a snapback and his Adidas hoodie and he’s sitting in the tree Even and him always climbed when they were younger.

He opens another one and is met by his own face yet again. This time, he’s pouting and Even has drawn big, fat tears rolling down his cheeks and on top of the drawing he reads  _Will I ever win a FIFA game?_

Then there’s one of him playing football. And one where he’s eating ice cream. And one where his sitting on top of a elephant.

Isak hasn’t said anything since he opened the box. He can feel his lips part when he looks at the drawings, confused as to why Even’d actually  _do_ this, spend his time on Isak like this.

He notices how different the drawings look, how the drawing style varies between them, and then it clicks in Isak’s mind that these have been made under a long period of time. That Even didn’t just decided to draw him after Isak talked about the lack of  _Isak-drawings._  That Even has been doing it for  _years._

Suddenly he’s aware of his own heartbeat in his ears.

His gaze flicker from the paper sheet in his hand up to his best friend. Even is staring right back at Isak, eyes searching his for some sort of response. He looks insecure, almost.

Isak decides that he needs to speak.

“You drew me?” He asks, voice close to a whisper.

Even relaxes a little, and lets out a soft laugh. “Of course I did.” He answers. “You said it yourself, didn’t you? That it would be outrageous not to draw the most important person in my life?”

Isak’s breath gets stuck in his throat. He shifts his gaze back to the drawing he’s holding.

 _You can’t say things like that_ , Isak wants to say.

Not when Isak  _knows_ that there are plenty other important people in Even’s life, people who share the same interests as him, people who can actually  _speak_  about things, people who are way better at showing him appreciation, people who are nothing like Isak.

Not when Even is the most important person to Isak and there’s  _no way_  Even can think that about Isak, too.

“I…” Isak starts off, but then he realizes he has no fucking clue what to say. “Just…thank you.” He ends up with, and it’s so  _stupid_  and so  _Isak_ to not even be able to fucking thank Even properly. He can’t find it in him tell him how much he likes the drawings or likes the thought of Even drawing them for him. He almost wants to say sorry that Even spent so much of his time on them, on him.

But he doesn’t. He fucking says  _thank you._

He just wants Even to be able to understand how much it means, wants him to read Isak’s mind to grasp just how much he appreciates it. Wants him to know that Even is the most important person to him, too. Why words are so difficult, Isak has no idea. He just knows they are.

“No problem.” Even says, and he smiles. “You can keep them, if you want to.”

Isak swallows. “Yeah?”

Even nods. “Yeah. I got plenty of other ones of you at home, anyway.” He shrugs, and then he turns of the light on his phone and the room is dark again.

Isak feels like his lungs aren’t functioning properly, and he has no idea why.

“Okay.” He says.

He expects Even to return to his own bed, then, but he doesn’t. He turns around to lay on his stomach and pulls the duvet closer to his face.

“Good night, Isak.”

Isak hasn’t moved yet, still turned on his side as he stares out into nothing. He swallows, and hates the way how his chest feels heavy.

He lays down on his back, and stares up at the ceiling.

“Good night, Even.”

-

The next morning when Isak opens his eyes, there are three things he notices right away.

He’s  _really_  fucking tired, the sun is way too bright, it’s shining in through the blinds and hitting him  _right_  in his eyes, and Even isn’t still next to him in the bed.

He sits up and rubs at his eyes while simultaneously cursing at no one in particular, the world in general maybe, for making him this fucking tired (logistically, he knows it’s no one else’s fault but his own).

Isak snatches his phone out of the charger, and when he looks at his display, the first notification is one from his mom. He stops reading as soon as he sees her name, and puts the phone back down. 

He’s up on his feet after that, walking into the kitchen, only to find Even sitting at the kitchen table, a bowl of cereal in front of him. He writes something on his phone, it kind of looks like he’s suppressing a smile, while he shoves a spoon into his mouth and chews loudly.

Will it be weird today, after last night? Are things even  _capable_ of being weird with Even? Isak has no idea. He has no idea if last night even  _was_  weird, or if it was to Even.

He doesn’t have time to think about it when Even interrupts his thoughts, finally noticing Isak where he stands in the doorway.

“Mornin’ sleepyhead.” Even greets him, then follows up his words with a grin.

And that’s how Isak knows that it probably won’t be weird.

“Hey.” Isak says back.

“Mom and dad are on a hike. I thought we could go on one later, maybe.” Even says, eyes still glued to his phone.

“I feel like we might never get back if we try to walk in the woods.” Isak points out.

Even looks at him then, face turning into an overly offended expression. Then he scoffs.

“I’m great at reading maps and shit. You always forget how much older and wiser I am, Isak.”

Isak raises one of his eyebrows at Even, and the corner of his mouth twitches upward. “Right.”

-

Two hours later, Isak is pretty sure they’re lost.

Even, however, insists they aren’t.

 _“Even_ ,” Isak groans, dragging out his Even’s name. He wants to go home, sometime this year, preferably. His feet hurt and his shirt is sticking to his back because somehow it’s  _really_  fucking hot in the woods, even if it’s September.

 _“Isak_.” Even answers, mimicking Isak’s tone from before.

Isak rolls his eyes. “Seriously. I think I’m going to die. Would you like that? Knowing that you’re responsible for my  _death?”_

Even laughs so loudly it echoes through the woods. “That’s not dramatic, or anything.” He says, and then looks back from where he’s walking in front of Isak. “Besides, a couple of hours out in fresh air won’t kill you, I promise.”

Isak’s only answer is a death glare that Even misses because he turns around again. Even mumbles something about being  _there_  soon and Isak sighs. He doesn’t even know where  _there_ is. He is, however, fairly certain that they won’t reach it.

They keep walking for another ten minutes, during which Isak shouts  _SNAKE!_  three times and watched as Even jumps for his life. It made Isak laugh so much he had to hold on to a tree to be able to keep himself on his feet.

Then,  _finally_ , Even announces that they reached their destination. Isak doesn’t think he’s ever seen Even so proud of himself. He wants to point out that it  _did_  take them two hours, but he lets Even have his moment. Just this time.

When Isak sees where it is they’ve arrived, he almost thinks the hell-walk here was worth it. Almost.

They’re on a hill, looking out over, well,  _more_  trees, but they’re far up and it feels like they’re on top of the world. The trees have done their yearly job of turning the leaves yellow and orange and red and the sun is high in the sky, hitting both of their faces with a golden glow.

“Damn, there used to be a bench here before.” Even mumbles, looking around. Then, he shrugs. “I guess we’ll just have to climb up there.”

Even nods towards a tree behind them, and Isak immediately wants to object.

For one, Isak thinks they are just a little too old to be climbing trees. They are, aren’t they? They used to all the time when Isak was ten. He’s not ten anymore.

Also, considering Isak’s usual luck, he’d probably fall down. And die. Probably.

So, he shakes his head, determined.

“You’re really keen on me dying today, aren’t you?” Isak asks, raising his brows.

Even raises his own back at Isak. “You underestimate yourself, Isak.” He says, and then he completely dismisses what Isak wants and start making his way up the tree. He struggles a little, and Isak wishes Even could see himself because he looks absolutely ridiculous. Isak crosses his arms and continues to watch as Even’s  _tremendously_  long legs try to climb up, and then after a while of curse words and failed attempts, he’s proudly seated on a thick branch in the tree.

“Come  _on_ , Isak.” Even begs from where he’s sitting.

Isak stubbornly stands with his arms crossed over his chest. He shakes his head again.

“I’m not letting you talk me into anything again.” Isak says.

-

Even talks him into it. Five minutes later, he’s sitting next to Even in the tree. He didn’t even  _almost_  die, which Even points out to him, but then Isak reminded him that they still need to get themselves down.

The view is even better from here, though, Isak’s not going to lie. The sky is clear and he can catch the  glimpse of mountains far away. He feels calm again, in the same way he did last night. Isak wonders if it’s Even that has this impact on him or if it’s the locations they’re at. A mixture of both, probably, he decides.

Even’s phone makes a sound and he pulls it out from his pocket. He reads whatever it says on the screen, and then there’s the look Isak saw on his face this morning by the dining table. Even  _never_  texts anyone besides Isak, not like he’s doing right now at least, so Isak furrows his brows when yet  _another_ text makes Even’s phone go off, and it looks like he hasn’t even finished answering the first one he got yet.

“Who are you texting?” Isak asks because, naturally, sticking his nose in Even’s business is his self-declared job.

Even looks up from his phone, an expression on his face like he’s been caught something he shouldn’t be doing. Then he shrugs.

“It’s just…this girl I met, last week.” He says, like it’s nothing important, but Isak doesn’t miss the tiny smile on his lips.

Right. A girl. Not what he excepted, maybe, but they’re both bound to get girlfriends  _sometime_ , right?

Not like Isak thinks that day would come anytime soon, for himself. He doesn’t think a lot about it, isn’t really that interested in getting a girlfriend right now. The girls in his year are pretty, he supposes, he even kissed Anna a couple of months ago. He just has other things he’s more interested in than girls. They’re not  _that_  interesting at the age they’re at right now, Isak thinks.

They never really talked about girls, him and Even. Even had told him about his first kiss, he was thirteen and it was with a girl he met while he was on vacation in Spain. He came back home from his trip with a tan, a gift for Isak and a girl’s number in his phone. Isak had spent that same week at home in his room, playing Mario Kart and waiting for text updates from Even.

Isak never told Even about his kiss with Anna though, didn’t exactly think it was something to tell him about; it was just lips meeting lips. Nothing special or overly exciting. It was a nice kiss, (at least he  _thinks_  it was; he didn’t really have much to compare it with. She didn’t try to shove her tongue down his throat or any other nightmare scenario, so he guesses it was okay.) but nothing worth talking about.

So this is new territory for him, and he’s not sure what he’s supposed to say.

“What’s her name?” Isak asks.

“Sonja.” Even replies.

Isak nods.

“Poor girl. Has no idea what she’s getting herself into. I should warn her.” He grins.

Even shoves at his side. “Rude.” He says, and lets out a laugh after. It kind of looks like a blush is creeping onto his cheeks, and Isak thinks the girl must really be  _something_ , because Even never blushes.

Isak clears his throat. Thinks he should say something  _somewhat_  serious at least.

“So, do you like her?”

Even stares at the view in front of them. The sun hits his eyes and he squints from it, before he drags his fingers through his hair.

“I think I could.” He says.

Isak nods.

-

Sonja becomes Even’s girlfriend two weeks into October. Not much changes. Even is still Isak’s best friend, they still play FIFA and they still go to McDonalds in the middle of the night sometimes.

Even doesn’t talk about Sonja much, though. He’s in love with her, Isak can tell, but his girlfriend is always just mentioned in passing. Isak isn’t sure why – when you’re in love with someone, you’d want to talk about them, right? If Even’s crappy romance movies has taught him anything, it’s that people who are in love doesn’t shut up about it.

Isak doesn’t know if he likes the lack of Sonja-talk or not. On one hand, he’s glad Even isn’t one of those people who, when they get into a relationship, can only talk about that person all the time. Isak doesn’t think he could handle that for…well, however long Even and Sonja plan on being together.

On the other hand, though, he doesn’t want Even to think that he couldn’t handle hearing about Sonja once in a while. He’s not  _jealous_ , by any means, and he doesn’t want Even to think he is either. They’re still best friends and that’s all that matter to Isak.

And since they’re still best friends, they  _should_  be talking about Even’s girlfriend. Best friends do that. At least Isak thinks they do, anyway.

Isak hasn’t even met Sonja, which is a little odd considering that they’re both over at Even’s house pretty much everyday. Even’s showed him pictures of her, though, and she’s pretty. There’s no denying. Blonde hair and bright eyes and - from what he’s seen from the pictures - always smiling. Isak thinks he wants to meet her. Wants to see what she’s like, if Even is the same way with her as he is with Isak. If she’s as good as Even says she is, the few times he talked about her, that is.

Isak wants to meet Sonja, sure, but not  _right now._

And right now, Isak is on his way to Even’s house. He’s biking, and  _fuck_ , was that a bad idea. It’s October and he feels like his fingers are going to fall right of his hands. He would probably had taken the bus, had he not been in a rush to get out of his house.

He couldn’t stay home tonight. His dad had slammed the front door on his way out (where he was going to, Isak had no idea) so hard the whole house shook. His mother was in the bedroom, the door was closed but Isak could still hear her recite verses and prayers and talk to no one but herself. So he couldn’t stay.

Isak’s mind is racing the entire way to Even’s house, chest keeps rising and falling in an uneven pace and he’s not sure if it’s because he’s biking as fast as he can or if it’s because of something else.

He just needs to see Even right now. Needs him to talk about stupid shit like weird animal mating rituals (It’s a thing, Isak has no idea why Even keep showing him YouTube clips of this, but he’s come to accept it), needs him to rant about why Nas is the greatest rapper or Moulin Rouge an underrated movie, needs him to draw dicks on Isak’s leg even though he  _promised_  he wouldn’t. He just - he needs his best friend right now.

So, Isak’s mind is occupied and it hasn’t crossed his mind to think about the chance that Even may not be home alone.

It doesn’t cross his mind until Even opens the door and Sonja is standing next to him.

Isak is still panting from his ride and Even is standing in front of him with his brows furrowed. He can’t blame him if he’s a little confused, Isak  _did_  show up unannounced and now he’s suddenly here, breathing like he just ran a marathon.

“Shit.” Isak curses. “I didn’t know, uh...” He rubs his palm against his forehead. His hair is damp with sweat even though he felt like he was freezing to death ten seconds ago. “I didn’t know you…uh, had company.” He glances over to where he threw his bike on Even’s lawn. “I can go, sorry.”

Isak is just about to turn around and leave, he feels like the biggest idiot on the planet, when Even’s voice stops him.

“No, it’s alright. You can stay.” He says.

Isak looks over to Sonja. He’s not sure why. Maybe he’s waiting for her to object. She doesn’t.

“I was just leaving.” She says, and then she smiles at him.

Isak swallows, nods and steps inside. Waits for Sonja to take her coat from the spot Isak always hangs his own on.

She reaches for the light pink jacket and begins to push one arm into it.

“It’s Isak, right?” She asks, all bright eyes and cheerful voice.

“Yeah. It’s nice to meet you.” Isak says, but his tone doesn’t quite match Sonja’s.

He’s not certain he means it, though. It would probably be nice if he met her any other time except right now. Right now, he’s not in _meeting-Even’s-girlfriend_ -mood. He tries to smile, though, tries to act like he means it, but he doesn’t think it comes out looking very genuine.

“You, too.” Sonja says and then she smiles again.

Isak takes his coat off and hangs it on the rack. He’s not sure what he’s supposed to do now, so he awkwardly stands in his spot and rubs under his nose with the side of his hand.

Sonja turns to look at Even. “Well, I’m gonna go. Text me later, then?”

Even nods in response, and then Sonja leans in to peck him on the lips. It only lasts for two seconds, but Isak feels like he needs to look away. Like he’s prying on a moment, or something.

He hears them mumble their goodbyes and more sounds of lips coming together.

Isak is still looking at his feet.

“Bye, Isak!”

Isak turns his head upward and watches as Sonja waves, and he barely has time to say goodbye back before she’s out the door.

Then there’s Isak, Even and an empty hall.

The atmosphere is…strange, and Isak feels stupid. He feels stupid for rushing over here on his bike, forgetting the fact that Even has his  _own_ life. He feels  _pathetic_ over the fact that he has to literally run away from his home all the way over to Even’s just because he’s  _thinking_ too much.

Isak feels like he’s a child, and he’s not. He’s  _fine_ , why does he keep doing this? Why does he keep bothering Even all the fucking time? He’s keeps coming over to him just because Isak’s family isn’t all rainbows and butterflies right now but it’s not like that’s Even’s shit to deal with.

Hell, Even probably ( _hopefully_ ) doesn’t even know  _why_  Isak is coming over because Isak never tells him anything.

Isak is aware he’s a shitty excuse for a best friend. He keeps coming here and he  _knows_  Even will worry and be confused and concerned (even though it doesn’t make any sense to Isak why Even would bother in the first place) and yet Isak doesn’t tell him shit about it.

 _It’s because it’s not your problem_ , Isak wants to say.  _Don’t worry about it._

Isak is fine. He’s fine. He  _is_.

So that’s why it doesn’t make any sense that he feels like this. He’s not certain what  _this_  is, all he knows is that he feels it.

He needs to say something now. They’ve been quiet for way too long for it to be normal.

“Hey.” Isak mumbles. He shifts awkwardly on his feet and closes his eyes because  _fuck,_  he’s an idiot.

“Hi.” Even answers. He doesn’t sound the same way Isak does. He sounds – he sounds like Even. “Are you staying over tonight?” He asks then, just cuts right to it.

It makes Isak a little uncomfortable, Even asking that question without Isak mentioning anything about it. It becomes clear to him just how used Even is to this and Isak doesn’t like it. Doesn’t like being dependent and putting his stuff on Even like this.

But he can’t say no.

“I mean if you’ve got things to do, or -”

“I don’t.” Even quickly cuts him off. “Great!” He exclaims, slapping his hands together. “Mom just made cookies. Thank god you’re here, I’d eat them all by myself.” And then he’s heading into the kitchen. Just like that.

Even’s mother is busy cleaning the countertop from flour when Isak and Even enters the kitchen. The whole room smells like cookies and  _this is what a home should smell like_ , Isak thinks.

“Oh, hello Isak!” Mona greets him as soon as her eyes meet Isak’s. She places the rag on the counter and walks up to Isak and gives him a peck on his cheek. “Did Even lure you here by telling you about my infamous cookies?” She asks, cocking a brow toward him.

Isak chuckles. “No,” he answers. “But I had this feeling in my gut that you were baking and I got here as fast as I could.”

Mona smiles. It’s warm and genuine and everything a mother’s smile should be like. Isak barely remembers how one looks, but now, seeing it in front of him, it’s as clear as ever.

“I thought so.” She says, then she walks over to the counter and shoves a plate full of cookies into Even’s arms. “Don’t eat them all boys, I don’t want anyone getting diabetes.” She warns, then returns to cleaning.

“That’s not how diabetes works, mom.” Even states and grins when his mother rolls his eyes at him.

“You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Even mumbles, handing over the plate to Isak and then proceeds to take out a milk carton from the fridge. “We’re going upstairs.” He announces and then leans in to peck his mother on the cheek. “Thanks for the cookies.”

Mona smiles. “No worries. Get out of here now.”

Isak smiles as he watches them, but can’t help but feel the sting in his chest. It feels a lot like jealousy. He feels like shit about it, he does, but he can’t make it go away. It’s lame, right? Being jealous of your best friend and his  _mom_. But  _fuck_ , when Isak looks at the scene playing out in front of him, all he can think about is how he doesn’t have that. Or, he doesn’t  _anymore_ at least _._

It doesn’t feel like he’ll ever get it again either.

-

“I’ve done some research.” Even mumbles, voice muffled by the cookie he’s stuffed his mouth with.

They’re sat on Even’s floor, cookie tray in between them and an episode of  _The O.C_  playing on the TV-screen in front of them. Even’s choice,  _not_  Isak’s. The show  _sucked_ , Isak made sure to tell Even this every time he wanted to put it on when they hung out but it never stopped Even.

Isak definitely did  _not_ root for Seth and Summer through every episode. He didn’t.

“About what?” Isak asks, eyes not leaving the screen. Seth is currently declaring his love for Summer on top of a kissing booth.

“The universe thing you talked about at the cabin.” Even says.

Isak only hums as a response, too caught up in what’s happening on the TV to focus on Even. Suddenly, the episode is paused. Isak turns to look at Even, remote control in hand.

“I thought you said you hated this show.”

“I do!” Isak exclaims.

Even’s eyebrows rise, like he doesn’t believe him.

“Mhm.” He answers, mouth curled into a grin.

“Whatever.” Isak mutters low. “You were saying?”

Even straightens his back. “Parallel universes.” He continues. “I’m not sure I like it.”

“Why not?” Isak asks. He’s almost offended. Isak’s not sure why exactly he likes the idea, or the possibility, of other universes the way he does, it’s just  _so_   _interesting,_ but apparently, Even doesn’t feel the same way.

Even looks thoughtful. “It’s just, it makes me a little stressed out.” He explains. “Like, say there is another Even in another universe somewhere. What if I do something stupid in this universe, then there’s the possibility that the other Even  _didn’t_  do it. Or, if something shitty happens here, it might not happen in another universe. I can’t go around thinking that way, you know? It’d make me just…stressed out.”

Isak hums. Even isn’t wrong, he supposes. Isak does what he just explained  _all the time_ , thinks about how things could be for him in another universe. Lays awake at night thinking about all the other Isak’s and all the possibilities surrounding them. And sure, that  _sucks_ , when he starts thinking about reality and the Isak in this universe and how things hasn’t really turned out the way he would want them to.

But still, there’s something so captivating about the thought that there’s plenty of universes that carries their own different version of what is Isak’s reality.

“Yeah, I guess.” Isak begins. “But, I don’t know. You can think of it the other way around, too. Like, what if we never met in another universe or like, what if your dad is, I don’t know, Voldemort somewhere else?”

Even makes a sound that’s something between a snort and a laugh.

“You think my dad could be  _Voldemort_  in another universe?” He asks with an amused voice, eyebrows raised.

Isak shrugs. “I don’t know!” He exclaims loudly in a high-pitched voice, throwing his hands in the air. “I’m just saying, maybe you’re lucky in this universe.”

Something changes in Even’s expression then, and he looks down at his hands in his lap. He seems to be thinking, before he gazes up at Isak again.

“Yeah.” Even says. “I think I am.”

Even’s eyes doesn’t leave Isak’s, and suddenly they’ve become quiet. Isak clears his throat, uncomfortable by the silence.

“Okay.” Isak nods once. “Good.”

Then they’re just staring at each other for a while, and Isak is the first one to turn his gaze away.

“Also,” Even starts. “There just isn’t enough evidence to prove it.”

This time, Isak snorts.

“Even, you believe in  _bigfoot._ ” Isak points out matter-of-factly, and gives Even a look.

Even looks offended. “Yeah, so what?” He says with a high-pitched voice. “There’s plenty of evidence for bigfoot!”

Isak laughs. “Yeah, a lot of  _shit_ evidence. Like a movie made in Windows Movie Maker and a man in a gorilla suit.” Isak snickers, watches as Even’s face turns more offended by the second.

Suddenly, Isak is hit by the remote control in his chest. He groans in pain and clutches at the spot and dramatically falls to his side.

“That’s what you get for making fun of bigfoot.”

-

They’re laying next to each other in Even’s bed the same night. They’re watching Animal Planet on the television, but Even’s busy doing something with his phone. Isak guesses he’s texting Sonja.

He tries to come up with a way to ask Even about Sonja without it sounding weird. He can’t think of a good way, so eventually he just blurts out “How come you never talk about Sonja?”

Even puts down his phone and looks at Isak, brows knitted together.

“What do you mean?” He asks

Isak licks his lips, and shrugs. “I don’t know, just – you never talk about her.”

Even shifts in the bed. “Well,” he starts. “I didn’t think you’d want to hear about her, I guess.”

This time, Isak frowns. “Why?”

Even stares at the TV. “I don’t know,” he says, shaking his head. “Would you find it interesting to listen to me talk about her?”

He averts his gaze to Isak, a look on his face like genuinely wonders about the question he just asked.

Isak blinks. “Yes.” He replies. “You’re my best friend, anything you say is interesting.”

When Even doesn’t say anything, Isak continues. “Just – I don’t know, if you want to talk about her, then talk. Don’t feel like you have to hold anything in, or whatever.”

Even inhales, then he nods, slowly. “Alright.” He says. Then they’re quiet. Both of them staring at the television now, watches as a lion is on the prowl for a poor gazelle. Isak almost winces when the lion catches it. He doesn’t like watching this, but he knows Even does, so he shuts up.

“Can I tell you something about her, then?” Even suddenly speaks.

Isak looks at him. Even keeps his gaze on the TV.

“Okay.” Isak nods.

Even hesitates a little, and Isak watches as his Adam’s apple bobs up and down as he swallows.

“I think…” He begins. “I think I love her.”

Isak remains silent for a moment. He almost regrets bringing the subject of Sonja up now, because now he realizes he has no idea how to talk about relationships, or give any advice on it. He has no experience and truthfully, he’s fairly certain he’s not too fond of the idea of relationships either.

Before Isak has the time to answer, Even turns his head to look at him.

“Do you think it’s too soon?” He asks, like what Isak thinks has any importance what so ever.

Does he think it’s too soon? Even and Sonja has been dating for a month, known each other for a little less than two. Now, Isak isn’t an expert in any way, but if he were to be in a relationship, he probably wouldn’t go near the word  _love_  at that point. That might also just be because he doesn’t really believe in relationships that much, most of them end badly, from what he’s seen at least. Doesn’t really seem like it’s worth to spend so much time on one person when statistic  _clearly_  shows that it’ll probably all end up like shit. Especially at the age he is at right now.

This, however, Isak realizes is terrible advice and  _not_  something you should tell someone who you just assured can talk about his girlfriend.

“I mean, if that’s what you feel then I say, fuck too soon.” Isak settles for. He’s not lying – he really does think Even loves Sonja. Just because Isak wouldn’t say those words doesn’t mean Even shouldn’t. It means quite the opposite, because that’s what Isak and Even are when it comes to this. Opposites. “I mean, only you can feel what you feel, right?”

Even looks a little startled, but then he smiles. He nods once. “Only I can feel what I feel.” He repeats.

Isak nods, too.

Then, Even lets out a sigh. “I have no idea how to tell her, though.” He says, letting his head fall back against his pillow.

Isak raises his eyebrows. “Did your stupid movies teach you  _nothing_?” He snorts. “Like, just hire a plane with a banner behind it that has the words on it. Or,  _or_  – get some white doves and like, a thousand red roses and spell it out on the ground, or –”

Isak doesn’t have time to give his third suggestion before he gets whacked over the head with Even’s pillow.

“Oh my god,” Even exclaims. “ _Shut up_ , Isak!”

Isak simply laughs.

-

Even falls asleep before him. His steady breathing is the only audible sound in the room, except for the thoughts in Isak’s head. He keeps thinking about Even, and how he loves Sonja. He’s happy for him, really, but Isak can’t help it but to be a little envious of him. Not  _jealous_ of Sonja or of Even, but of what  _they have_. Someone they love, someone who they get to care about, someone who they  _want_  to care about. Someone who’ll listen to anything they’ll say, someone who won’t leave.

It makes Isak’s chest heavy, for some reason. He feels…he feels like –

He feels alone. That’s it.

-

In the first week of November, a new guy starts in Isak’s class. Isak notices him right away, all curly hair and bushy brows. His name is Jonas, and the teacher assigns him to sit next to Isak.

Isak is glad she did, because as it turns out, Jonas is good. He’s nothing like the other boys in his class, Isak can tell right away. For one, he actually  _talks_  to Isak, which is more than he can say for anyone else in his class.

And he’s funny. He makes Isak laugh and for once in his life, the teacher has to tell him to be quiet while she teaches.

They keep texting outside of school, and Jonas once states his talent of playing FIFA. Naturally, Isak has to tell him that Jonas has never  _seen_  talent until he’s watched Isak play. This ends up in Jonas inviting Isak over and a FIFA tournament is planned.

Isak wasn’t planning on telling Even about Jonas – he’s just a guy, perhaps a new friend, no big deal. However, when Even asks about studying together after school and it happens to be the day he’s hanging out with Jonas, Isak has to tell him that he’s busy.

“Busy?” Even repeats, like he’s heard Isak wrong. He knits his eyebrows together. “ _You?_ ”

Isak shrugs and licks his lips. “I am.”

“Well, what are you doing?” He asks, scandalized. “I can’t believe you have other plans than to annoy me. I’m almost hurt, Isak.” He says and dramatically puts a hand over his heart.

Isak rolls his eyes. “I’m just hanging out with this guy.” He mumbles, averts his gaze to his feet.

“Really?” Even asks, surprised, like it’s totally impossible for Isak to spend time with someone else besides Even. Which, if Isak thinks about it, isn’t that strange. Even has been the only one he’s hung out with since he was seven. “Who?” Even continues.

“Just…a new guy I met in class.” Isak shrugs.

He looks at Even, who’s mouth have turned upward. He’s looking a little too excited for Isak’s liking.

“That’s great.” Even says, like he really means it. “Is he nice?”

Isak nods. “He’s cool.” He says. “Way better at skateboarding than you.” Isak grins, and thinks back to that time Even tried to skate.  _Tried,_ literally, because he ended up on his face against the concrete and a sprained ankle.

Even laughs. “Shut up.” He mutters. “So, what’s his name then?”

Isak swallows. “Jonas.”

“Jonas.” Even repeats. He grins. “Alright. I’ll see you the day after tomorrow, then?”

Isak nods. Then he smiles. “Yeah.” He answers. “The day after tomorrow.”

-

Jonas beats Isak at FIFA the next day.

“Man, I can’t believe I’m _finally_  better at one of my friends at this.” Jonas chuckles.

Isak smiles at the  _friend_  part.

-

November rushes by and Isak’s shoulders feel a little easier when December comes. Jonas new presence in Isak’s life is great – he didn’t know how good it would feel to have someone by his side when he’s not with Even.

Things at home hasn’t improved much, though, but at least there isn’t as much arguing anymore – his mother is almost constantly locked in her room and his dad is…well, he’s not sure what his dad is doing. He smiles at Isak but it doesn’t look very genuine. He looks tired and worn out and is almost never home, tells Isak he has to work late and then doesn’t come home until Isak has went to bed.

He figures his dad doesn’t think Isak hears him when he comes through the door late at night all the time, probably assumes he’s sound asleep.

Isak isn’t, though. He’s wide awake and wishes sleep would just fucking find him but it doesn’t. He’s tired, though. He’s  _so_  tired.

Nothing is different this night. Isak hasn’t looked at his phone in at least an hour, and when he did, it was 1:40. He sighs and rubs at his eyes, then he sits up and proceeds to pull his headphones out. He plugs them into his phone, opens up Spotify and puts on the playlist Even made for him, titled  _get it together Isak._  The playlist consists of songs Even insisted Isak listened to, and so Isak did. There’s mostly Nas songs, which Isak has no problem with, but then out of nowhere, shitty songs by Lady Gaga or fucking  _Carly Rae Jepsen_ suddenly appears _._ Despite the utter exhaustion in his body _,_ Isak huffs out a laugh when Call Me Maybe comes on.

Isak is aware that Even’s probably not awake, but he still types out a text.

 **ISAK** 02:46

_I can’t believe you made me a playlist with call me maybe. i’m not sure we’re friends anymore_

Isak lets his phone rest against his chest and closes his eyes as  _the message_  runs through his headphones.

He almost jumps when his phone makes notification sound, not expecting a reply this time of the night.

 **EVEN**  02:48

_Stop insulting musical masterpieces :( what did u think about the rest of the songs_

**ISAK** 02:49

_liked them. Except born this way. What the fuck??_

**EVEN** 02:49

_It’s a masterpiece, isak. how dare you disrespect gaga like that? why are u even awake anyway_

**ISAK** 02:50

_can’t sleep. You?_

**EVEN** 02:51

_Busy making u a new playlist filled with katy perry and gaga and taylor swift_

**ISAK**  02:52

[photo of Isak giving the middle finger]

_funny. also u crossed a line with taylor swift_

**EVEN** 02:54

_ur adorable_

Isak is about to reply, he is, but suddenly his eyes are so heavy that they’re impossible to hold up anymore. So he drifts into sleep, Even’s playlist flowing in his ears the entire night.

-

Christmas isn’t Christmas.

Not like Christmas always used to be, anyway.

His mother barely leaves her bedroom, and when she does, she looks like the ghost of the woman she once was. His dad gives Isak too many gifts, like he’s compensating for other stuff he doesn’t give him. His grandmother doesn’t even come over like she usually does, she’s getting older and sick and only called Isak to wish him a merry christmas and told him she’d sent him money.

Isak doesn’t like Christmas very much, he decides.

He goes on a walk at eight pm, thinks he’s had enough of staring at the television for the night. It’s snowing and dark outside, barely any signs of life on the streets. Which really isn’t that strange considering that it is Christmas Eve after all. Isak figures normal people are probably curled up at home, opening gifts and spending time with each other right now.

Isak sits down at a bench in Slottsparken, pulls his hoodie a little further over his head and buries his hands in the pockets of his coat. Starts to think that  _maybe_  a walk in the middle of the winter at night wasn’t a good idea, because he feels like he’s about to get hypothermia any second now.

The park is empty and Isak feels a little empty, too.

He should be used to it by now. Feeling like this. Isak tells himself it’ll be over soon – but he’s not entirely sure he believes it. He wants things to go back to normal, no, scratch that, Isak doesn’t even know what normal is anymore, he hasn’t had it in so long. He wants for things to go back to the way they were when he was ten, and  _fuck_ , isn’t that sad. To wish he was ten again.

Suddenly, his phone is vibrating in his pocket. Frost-bitten fingers fishes it out of his pocket and sees Even’s name light up the display. Isak presses the green button.

“Hi.” He answers, clears his throat when he hears how his voice come out.

“Hey.” Even says. “What are you doing?”

“I’m just…sitting.” Isak answers.

Even laughs once. “Sitting?” He repeats. “Okay, where?”

Isak hesitates. “Uh,” he starts. “Slottsparken.”

He can practically  _feel_  Even’s confusion through the phone.

“Okay...” Even trails off. “Alright, stay there.”

Isak rolls his eyes. “You’re not coming here.”

“I am.” Even says, and he sounds so determined Isak  _knows_ he won’t be able to talk him out of it. “Just stay where you are.”

-

Even shows up fifteen minutes later. He’s got his hood up and a large scarf around his neck, and as he gets closer Isak notices that he’s holding two paper cups in his hands.

Even sits down next to Isak on the bench, and offers him one of the cups.

“Figured you’d need some hot chocolate.” He says.

Isak smiles at the gesture and reaches out of his pockets to take the cup. The heath makes his fingers warm up a little bit.

Neither of them say anything for a while. Isak sips on the chocolate and hisses when it burns his tongue. He feels Even’s gaze burn at the side of his face, but Isak keeps his eyes on the cup in his hands.

“Are you alright?” Even asks. Isak isn’t sure, but he doesn’t think he’s asking about the burned tongue.

He keeps his eyes down and swallows. “Fine.” He replies.

Isak feels like  _fine_  is the only word he knows anymore. And that’s a little ironic, really, when he hasn’t felt  _fine_  in ages.

“Why are you sitting out here?”

Isak sighs.  _God_ , Even asks a lot of questions and all of them feels so fucking hard to answer, even if they’re the most simple ones.

Isak sniffles and shrugs. “Just wanted to walk, I guess.”

Even hums. Isak looks at him, then. His nose has turned a little red and his beanie is pushing his hair down so it lays flat against his forehead and even though Isak has just walked a couple of miles away from his home, it feels like home is sitting right beside him now.

Isak exhales, watches as his breath turns into a white cloud in the frigid air. He figures he should at least try to make conversation with Even, since he came all the way over here.

“How was your christmas?” Isak asks.

Even takes a sip from his cup. “It was good.” He says. “My aunt got really drunk and started telling stories about mom from when they were teenagers.”

Isak laughs once. “That  _is_  the definition of a good christmas.”

Even grins. He looks at Isak. “So, how was yours?” He asks.

“My what?”

Even chuckles. “Your christmas, dumbass.”

Isak blinks. His mind flashes with images of awkward dinners and his mothers empty eyes.

He shrugs. “Okay, I guess. No drunk aunts, so.” He smiles weakly. “I don’t really like christmas that much, anyway.”

Which, of course, Even who’s known him for six years  _knows_  isn’t the truth. Isak used to have countdowns to christmas when he was younger, used to not being able to shut up about decorating the christmas tree for days.

But he says it anyway, hopes Even will believe him.

By the look he gives Isak, he doesn’t. He doesn’t say anything, though, just moves closer to Isak on the bench, and leans down to rest his head on Isak’s shoulder.

The action makes Isak tense up. He feels warm and cold at the same time. He’s frozen in his position, not certain what he’s supposed to do. Even moves one of his hands to cover one of Isak’s, and Isak can’t do anything else than stare.

He both hears and feels Even let out a quiet sigh. “Do you wish things were different sometimes?”

Isak swallows. Carefully, he lets his head rest against Even’s. It feels right, somehow and he relaxes.

“Yeah.” He replies. “I do.”

For once, he’s telling the truth.

-

When January comes, Even gets sick. Isak can’t help but worry when he hasn’t answered his messages in two days, when usually, he replies right away.

On the third day, though, Isak gets a text.

 **EVEN** 13:16

_sorry for not answering, gotten sick, I think I have the flu or something_

Isak releases a breath of relief, asks Even if he wants Isak to come over with soup, or whatever, but Even insists he’s fine.

After four days of not seeing Even, Isak feels strange. He tells himself he’s being silly, but still, he’s so used to seeing his best friend that can’t help but miss Even’s constant presence. Isak sends him texts, which Even barely responds to and Isak guesses that this flu is  _really_  taking it’s toll on Even because he always texts back with so much enthusiasm.

Isak hangs out with Jonas, which is good, Jonas is good, but his thoughts still drifts to Even and his absence. He’s being ridiculous, he’s aware. It’s gone  _five_  days, not five months since he last saw Even. He listens to the  _get it together, Isak_ playlist and repeats the name of it to himself.

-

It’s ten days now. Even’s been sick for  _ten_  days and Isak’s starting to wonder if he has been kidnapped, because  _who the hell_  has the flu for this long?

Isak wants to come over, just a quick visit, but Even tells him he’ll just get sick if he does. Isak calls him on skype but Even doesn’t answer, tries to call his phone but Isak assumes he’s turned if off because he goes straight to voicemail.

Isak thoughts start to wander places they’ve never been before. Starts to have ugly thoughts, thoughts he shouldn’t have but can’t seem to stop from coming, anyway.

He shakes his head at himself. Even’s just sick. He’s not sick  _of Isak_. Just sick.

Right?

-

On the twelfth day, Isak phone rings. He can’t stop the smile that immediately covers his face.

Isak presses his phone against his cheek. “Hello?”

“Hey.” Even answers, and Isak feels like he can breathe again. He wasn’t aware of how much Even’s voice could calm him.

Even asks if Isak wants to come over, and Isak is there less than fifteen minutes later.

Even is sitting on his bed when Isak comes in, book in his lap and headphones in his ears. He looks like he hasn’t slept in days, his hair flopping against his forehead and all Isak’s concerns about Even not actually being sick is out the window.

When he looks up at Isak, though, he smiles. Despite the shape he’s in, the smile looks genuine. It takes up his entire face and makes his eyes crinkle at the corners and  _there he is._  A sense of calm washes over Isak, and he sits down on the bed next to Even.

“Feeling better?” Isak asks.

Even nods. “I am.”

“Good.” Isak says. “Because I have so much annoying to do to you.”

Even laughs, and Isak feels like the world is spinning again.

-

Even ends up falling asleep after an hour. They were watching YouTube clips and suddenly Isak looked over and Even was sound asleep against his shoulder.

Isak lets his eyes trail over Even’s features. He looks even more worn out this close up. There’s dark circles under his eyes, forehead is covered in pimples and his hair looks like it hasn’t been washed in a while.

Suddenly Isak  _never_  wants Even to have the flu again. Not if it does this to him. He feels the sudden urge to reach out and stroke away the strands of hair that has fallen in front of Even’s eyes, but he doesn’t. He just leans his head against Even’s and sighs. Lets the sense of calm Even is radiating seep through his pores. He let’s himself relax for the first time in twelve days.

-

Isak and Even are sitting at McDonalds four days later. Even looks like he’s made a full recovery, the bags under his eyes have faded and his skin isn’t as pale as it was before.

He’s currently chewing on a fry, he double-dipped it in the sauce they’re sharing but Isak didn’t give him shit about it like he usually would.

“You know,” Even starts. “There’s something I should tell you.”

Isak takes a sip from his drink. “Okay.” He says, looking at Even for him to continue. He doesn’t, though, just looks at Isak with wary eyes. Isak laughs once. “Well, what is it?”

Even is just about to open his mouth when Isak’s phone buzzes on the table between them. Both of them glance down to the phone and Isak can feel his heart drop when he sees his mother’s name on the display. He tilts his head to look at Even, who trying to act like he didn’t see the string of bible verse on his screen. Isak knows he did, though. He snatches his phone from the table and buries it in his pocket before he clears his throat.

“So, what is it?” He repeats.

Even just looks at him. Something changed in his eyes, he looks sad, almost. He smiles but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Never mind.” He dismisses, shaking his head. “Not important.”

-

In the final week of January, his mother breaks down.

It’s all a mess of screaming bible quotes and about the end of the world, of Isak’s father trying to calm her down, of Isak standing helplessly in the corner watching as his mother falls apart.

It’s his dad bringing his mother out to the car, telling Isak they need to go to the hospital, it’s his dad asking him  _you’ll be fine, right?_  and it’s Isak nodding and shoving his hands down his pockets so he won’t notice the way his hands are trembling.

Then it’s Isak and a empty house.

Isak can’t move, only stares out in the void where his mother had just crumbled to the floor. Isak knows it isn’t physically possible, but he feels like his heart is about to beat out of his chest.

Isak shifts his gaze to the floor where what once was a vase lies in countless small, sharp pieces. It had fallen to the floor during his mothers aggressive outburst. Isak figures he should pick it up, so he does.

He walks over and crunches down, begins to pick at the pieces with his shaking fingers. He lays them gently at the palm of his hand as the other one picks up the glass.

There’s a sharp pain, out of nowhere. Isak glances down and watches as a piece of glass digs into the palm of his hand and makes red liquid pool out. He frowns and walks over to the kitchen sink, throws the glass there and turns on the tap to put his hand under the water. It’s stings and Isak winces but doesn’t pull away from the running water.

When he’s put a bandage around his hand, Isak sits down at the kitchen table.

The sound of his phone going off and startles him, and he looks down at the screen.

 **EVEN**  18:56

_hey feel like getting destroyed in fifa tonight?_

Isak stares at the messages. Trembling fingers starts to type out a message, and he knows it’s probably not a good idea, but he sends it anyway.

 **ISAK** 18:58

_can you come over?_

-

Even knocks at his door exactly seventeen minutes later. Isak uses his hand that’s not hurt to press down the doorknob.

“Hi.” Even says, and he smiles.

Isak can’t smile. Can’t pretend that he doesn’t feel like he’s suffocating.

“Hey.” He replies, steps aside for Even to walk inside.

As Even is taking of his shoes, Isak sees the way his eyes freezes at his hand.

“What’d you do?” He asks, moves his gaze up to Isak’s eyes.

Isak swallows. He stares at his feet. “I just – just tried to pick up some glass.” He mumbles, tries to act like Even’s stare isn’t burning holes into his head.

Even walks up to him, grabs his wrist and moves it closer to his eyes so he can examine Isak’s bandage.

“ _What_?” He asks worriedly, his eyes searching Isak’s. “Where – where’s your parents?”

There’s the inevitable million dollar question Isak was hoping he wouldn’t have to answer. He can’t say it, can’t tell Even about his crazy mother and where she is. Not because he thinks Even can’t take it, but because  _Isak_  can’t.

So he just shakes his head, and continues to stare at his feet.  _It’s okay, it’s fine, you’re okay_ , he reminds himself, like a mantra, trying to convince himself that it’s the truth.

It’s not, though. Isak doesn’t think he’s ever been less okay in his life. He bites the inside of his cheek so hard he can feel the faint taste of blood in his mouth, but it doesn’t stop him. He breathes slowly, in and out, closes his eyes and hopes Even doesn’t notice the way his hands are shaking.

Even does. That’s what he’s always done, noticed everything about Isak right away. Has had the ability to see right through him, read him like a book.

“Isak?” Even tries. He moves his hands to Isak’s shoulders, holding them gently in place. There’s no way he can’t feel the way that Isak’s trembling now. Isak wants to shake out of his grip, but he doesn’t think he can, so he doesn’t even try.

“Hey, look at me.” Even demands, but his voice is soft. “Isak.”

Isak obliges finally, tilts his head up to find Even already staring at him. When he meets Even’s gaze, filled with carefulness and worry and confusion, he feels the back of his eyes burn.

Isak curses at himself in his head.  _It’s fine, it’s fine, it’s fine._

It’s not.

Isak doesn’t want them to, but he feels how hot tears escapes his eyes and slides down his cheeks. He panics, wriggles out of Even’s grip and rubs his hand aggressively over his face.

“Shit.” He curses. “Shit, I’m sorry.” He turns his back towards Even and tries to get rid of the tears.

“ _Isak_ ,” Even says, and  _holy shit_ , could he fucking stop saying his name like that?

“No,” Isak snaps. “ _No_. I’m okay.” He says. It doesn’t convince anyone.

Even frowns. “Stop saying that.” He walks over to Isak, startles him when he cups his face in his hands. “It’s okay if you’re not.” Even assures him, voice close to a whisper. “It’s okay if you’re not.” He repeats.

Even’s hands are warm against his jaw and his voice is so calm and so reassuring. Isak only stares at him, watches as Even licks his lips and searches Isak’s eyes with his own.

That’s all it takes. Isak feels water pool in his eyes again, blurring his vision until he can’t make out Even’s face anymore. He chokes out a sob, feels the water spill onto his cheeks and covers his face with his hands.

Even’s arms are suddenly around him, crushing him into his chest. It’s a warm embrace and it only makes Isak’s eyes spill over with more tears because  _fuck_ , maybe this is what Isak has needed all along. Someone who’s there for him. Isak stands frozen, cries into the palms of his hands while Even rubs his hands over his back.

He knows he’ll regret this and be embarrassed about it later, but he can’t find it in him to bring himself to care. So Isak lets himself feel, lets himself break down and he lets Even see all of it.

-

He wakes up, and he’s in his bed. That much he knows. He’s not sure why, or how he got here.

Isak rubs at his eyes and frowns when he feels how utterly and completely  _spent_  he feels. It’s like all the life has been sucked out of him, like he hasn’t slept in ages.

Then it clicks in his mind what happened and Isak immediately closes his eyes in regret. He doesn’t have time to think about it though, because he feels something move behind his back. Isak turns around, and finds Even on his stomach beside him, eyes closed and one arm stretched across Isak’s chest.

Something in Isak’s chest feels funny looking at him.

Sure, Isak might be  _very_ fucking embarrassed about what happened earlier, but still, he can’t help but think he’s lucky. He’s so lucky he has Even. Isn’t sure what he’d done without him.

Slowly, Even opens his eyes, looks right into Isak’s own.

Neither of them looks away.

“Hey.” Even croaks out, notices his arm where it’s slung over Isak’s chest and awkwardly removes it. Isak greets him back, keeps his voice low incase it felt like betraying him.

Isak doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do next. It’s the first time he’s found himself in a situation like this – in bed with his best friend after a complete meltdown.

He feels so – so  _exposed,_ like everything he tried so hard for to stay up has come crumbling down and now there’s no turning back. Even’s seen all of it and Isak feels like things won’t be the same now, not after this.

Isak reaches up to run his hand through his hair, feels Even’s gaze on him.

“We should change that.”

Isak turns to look at Even. “Hm?”

Even nods to his hand. “The band aid.” He says.

Isak takes a look at his hand and realizes that yeah, he does need to change it, because there’s a red spot in the middle of it now.

Even pushes the duvet of off him and stands up from the bed. “Bathroom.”

Isak nods, and follows him on weak legs as they make their way of Isak’s room and into the bathroom. Even tells him to sit on the toilet and Isak, too tired to protest, does as he says and sits down.

Even begins rummaging through the cabinets until he finds a bottle of rubbing alcohol and new band aids. He squats down in front of Isak’s and takes ahold of his hand and then begins to take the old band aid off.

It hurts, and Even looks up when Isak winces.

“Sorry.” He apologizes. “This’ll probably sting a little.” Even says, and wets a cotton ball with the alcohol and starts patting the wound carefully. And sting it does. Isak curses and bites down his cheek to distract himself from the burn. Isak watches Even’s every move, feels how careful and soft he’s being and Isak feels bad.

He needs to tell him. He owes him that much.

And what’s the point in hiding now, anyway? Even had already seen the ugliest part of him. Maybe it’s for the best to tell him now.

He clears his throat. “Even?” Isak hesitantly says.

Even hums and keeps his eyes on Isak’s hand.

Isak swallows. He blinks slowly, and exhales. “My parents are at the hospital.” He confesses.

Even looks up, but only for a split second, and then he continues to wrap the new bandage around Isak’s hand. “Okay.” He nods. Doesn’t ask anything more, just waits to see if Isak wants to continue or not.

“My mom is…” Isak trails off. Then he realizes he has no fucking idea what she is. “Something’s wrong with her.” Isak gulps.

Even flickers his gaze up towards Isak. He looks understanding in the way only Even can. “Okay, how?”

“She’s just - she’s not herself, you know?” Isak begins. “And it’s been like that for a while now, but tonight she just - she just  _snapped_.” He rubs at his eyes with the hand that isn’t occupied. “I just wish she wasn’t like this. She talks about weird things and God and shit like – like she’s  _insane_ , or whatever. I don’t know.”

Isak thinks he can feel Even tense up, the grip on his hand becomes a little tighter but then he quickly relaxes again. Isak looks at him.

“I just –  _fuck_ , I can’t take it anymore.” Isak admits, looks down at his lap. It feels both right and wrong to say. Most of all, it feels true. It feels like the only thing he’s truly sure of.

“Maybe…” Even starts. “Maybe she’ll get better though, if she’s at the hospital?” He says, hopefulness laced within his words.

Isak sniffles. “I don’t know.” He shrugs. “I don’t think so.” He says, hates how small his voice comes out. He looks at Even then. He has his eyebrows knitted together and a concerned expression on his face.

Even licks his lips. “I’m really sorry, Isak.”

Isak shakes his head. “Why? It’s not your fault.”

He hears Even swallow. “I know.” He says. “Still.”

Even finishes up wrapping Isak’s hand and stands up to put the things he used back into the cabinet. He starts to wash his hands, and Isak feels the need to say something more.

“Uh, Even?”

Even looks at him in the mirror. “Yeah?”

Isak swallows. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

 _For making me feel less alone,_ Isak wants to say.  _For staying when no one else does._

He doesn’t say that, though.

“Just – for being my best friend, I guess.”

Even turns around. He smiles softly.

“Of course.” He says. “No problem.”

-

Isak’s father and mother comes back eventually. His mom shuts herself in her room and his dad tells Isak that everything’s alright, that mom’s just a little stressed.

It’s all bullshit, Isak thinks, but doesn’t say. Everything’s not alright.

-

Even becomes busy. He tells Isak he’s got plans with Sonja, that he needs to study or that he’s tired. Isak doesn’t think much about it at first – it’s not strange for someone in year ten to be busy with schoolwork or wanting to spend time with his girlfriend.

But as the days go by, Even excuses piles on and on and he barely responds when Isak texts him. Isak wonders what he’s done wrong – cause it  _has_  to be something he’s done, right?

It’s been like this since Isak’s breakdown and eventually Isak decides that maybe that’s what he did wrong – maybe Even got to know that side of him and decided he didn’t want to deal with it. Isak can’t blame him, and he doesn’t one bit, so he stops texting eventually. Even if he wants to with every fiber in his body.

He looks at pictures Even uploads to his Instagram when he goes to Bergen for his birthday to visit his grandparents like he does every year. Sonja joins him this year, and Isak’s feed keeps being filled with pictures of the two of them when they’re smiling and laughing and kissing.

Isak frowns and locks his phone. Lays it on the table beside his bed and stares out into the pitch black room. It’s another sleepless night.

-

Things doesn’t get better. They don’t speak now, not at all. Isak’s not sure exactly when they stopped talking altogether, but it happened. It’s been a month since they hung out last and Isak pretends he doesn’t feel like there’s a hole in his chest.

Jonas is still there. He’s nothing like Even, really, and Isak is glad. He’s still a great friend though, they hang out at the skate park, they play video games and do homework. When they’re together, Isak’s mind gives him a break from thinking about Even, which he’s thankful for.

Thing is, Isak has a science test coming up and he keeps stealing Jonas’s book because his own is at Even’s. Jonas keeps complaining and Isak  _knows_  he has to do the inevitable. He needs to go over to Even.

He calls him one day after school, but is sent right to voicemail.

 _Fuck it,_ Isak thinks. They’ve known each other for six years. He can come by unannounced.

So he does, takes the familiar tram to Even’s house, walks up the familiar porch and knocks on the door.

He breathes in and out, feels nervous, almost. Tells himself to get it together, it’s just  _Even_.

Isak’s just about to knock again, when the door opens.

Even doesn’t hide the chock on his face when he sees Isak. His mouth gapes open slightly and he raises his brows.

“Hi.” Even breathes out.

“Hey.” Isak says back.

They fall quiet, and Isak remembers what he’s here for. “Uh, I – I need my science book. I think it’s here.”

“Oh,” Even says. He turns to look behind his shoulder, and he licks his lips nervously. He steps aside for Isak to walk inside. “Alright.”

Isak steps inside, like he’s done a hundred times before, but this time it’s different. Not only because him and Even are different, but because the house is all packed up in boxes.

Isak frowns as he looks around, and then turns to look at Even, who stares down at his feet.

“What’s this?” Isak asks, confusion laced within his voice.

Even looks up, chews at his bottom lip. “Uh,” He begins. Isak has never seen him like this. He looks nothing like himself – he’s nervous and shifts in his spot. “We’re moving.”

Isak’s frown grows bigger. “Where?” He asks. Figures Even means they’re moving out of the house, to an apartment maybe.

Turns out, that’s not what he means at all.

“Bergen.”

The words feel like a punch to his stomach, like all air is suddenly knocked out of him and he’s losing his ability to breathe. He doesn’t have time to say anything before Even continues.

“My grandma is sick, and…” He makes a pause, and swallows loudly. “And my dad took a job there, just – to be closer to her and stuff. Help out.”

Isak’s not sure what to say. He can just  _barely_  handle not talking to Even while he’s in Oslo, but not doing it while he’s in another city, miles away?

It’s not happening. Even isn’t  _leaving_. He can’t be.

Isak swallows. “When are you going?” He asks. He’s impressed with how unbothered his voice sounds.

“In two days.”

He feels his mouth open up, doesn’t understand what’s going on. He feels his heart is crack open for the second time in his life.

Isak just stares at him. “Were you -” He clears his throat. “Were you not gonna tell me?”

Even stares at the floor, plays with the hem of his shirt and flickers his eyes up toward Isak, but tilts his head town just as quickly again.

“I don’t know.” He whispers, and  _fuck_ , if Isak didn’t know how it felt to be let down before, he does now.

Isak can’t be angry – he can’t be anything. He’s not even sad. He feels empty, like he’s numb. Like nothing fucking matters anymore.

“Can I go get my book now?” Isak asks.

Even nods, still not meeting his eyes.

Isak walks up the stairs and into Even’s room and takes his book from a drawer in his desk. He stands helplessly in the middle of Even’s bedroom. The drawings over his desk are gone, half of the room is packed up in moving boxes.

He looks around the room, thinks of all the stupid shit they’d done here, of all the times Isak came here when his home just wasn’t enough for him.

Then he walks out and closes the door behind him.

When he gets down, Even is still standing where he was when Isak left him and turns around when he hears Isak come down the stairs.

Isak sees his eyes then – they look nothing like the blue, happy ones he’s used to; they’re full of what looks like guilt and sadness and Isak doesn’t want to look at them anymore.

“Isak, I’m sorry.” Even breathes out, and he sounds so fucking small it breaks Isak’s heart.

 _Me too,_  Isak wants to say.  _I don’t know what I did to make you do this to me, but whatever it was, I’m sorry, too._

He can’t bring himself to say that, so he only lets out a trembling breath. “Bye, Even.” He says, voice almost a whisper.

Isak isn’t sure if it’s the last time he’ll say that or not, but it hurts just as bad anyway. He takes one look at Even where he stands, hands in his pockets and shoulders slumped, and then he opens the door.

He shuts the door before Even can answer and then he starts making his way home.

It’s funny, really, how he’s walking towards what’s supposed to be his home while simultaneously leaving the only thing that’s ever really felt like it.

 


	2. two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!!!
> 
> first of all, i'm sorry this took so long for me to update. it was never my intention to wait like, three weeks, but there has been sooo much getting in my way so it took a little while longer than i wanted it to. But!! Here i am, with 21 k words and i have to idea how that happened at all. 
> 
> hopefully you guys enjoy this chapter, and i'll do my best to not take as long as i did to update now the next time!!! thank you for your lovely response and enjoy <3 don't forget to let me know if you liked it!!!

 

_March 2013_

The next two days goes by awfully slow.

Perhaps the reason why is because Isak doesn’t do much more than wait. Wherever he goes, he’s got his phone clutched tightly into the palm of his hand and a desperate sense of hope in his heart. He waits and waits and begins to feel pathetic but never stops waiting.

(for what, he’s not entirely sure. He just needs _something_.)

Isak checks his phone embarrassingly fast on every occasion where it makes a sound, but proceeds to be let down before he can even manage get his hopes up for real. It’s Jonas, most of the time, or his mother. No one else.

No sign of the one who Isak thought, _hoped_ maybe, might try to reach him.

At midnight, two days after he left his best friend’s home with science book in his hand and lump in his throat, the tiny glimpse of hope Isak had felt before has passed.

Even didn’t call, and now there’s seven hours and three hundred and four kilometers between them and it’s getting a little harder to breathe.

-

 **EVEN** June 21st 2013

_Happy birthday :) you are now 122 640 hours old. That’s an achievement_

**EVEN** September 28th 2013

_Did you get fifa 14? Haven’t played in ages but I’m almost certain I’d still kick your ass at it haha_

**EVEN** December 24th 2013

_Merry christmas, Isak! Saw one of those singing, real-looking stuffed santa clauses at the mall and thought of the time u started crying of fear because of one like five years ago lol. Hope you have a great christmas._

-

_July 2014_

Isak turns fifteen and his dad leaves a couple of weeks after. He gets home from school and there his father stands, bags by his feet and nervousness in his eyes. He explains and talks and says sorry but it all sounds like excuses in Isak’s head.

Isak’s dad is leaving because he can’t take it anymore, can’t take _his mother_ anymore, and Isak just wants to laugh and ask him _do you think I can take it any more than you do_?

But he doesn’t. He lets his dad leave, because he doesn’t really have much of a choice, does he?

It almost feels like déjà vu.

-

_May 2016_

He finds himself at a bar. The music is too loud and the fluorescent lights are making him a little dizzy as they dance across the way-too-crowded club.

Isak leans his elbows on the bar counter, buries his head in his hands. He starts to regret the drinks he downed, they’re making him tired and nauseous and drowsy and he screws his eyes shut when he feels his stomach churn unpleasantly.

Most of the drinks he had were free though, and there’s no way he’d decline free booze. However, Isak can’t figure out _why_ exactly he got them in the first place. There was this man who sat down beside him, he seemed a little older than Isak himself and was in a grey, expensive-looking suit (Isak would’ve probably wondered why the hell he wore a suit to a club, if he was in any shape to think properly), looked like the type who’d have a nine to five job as a salesman and comes home to a girlfriend and a Chihuahua every night.

Isak, already a little intoxicated, thanked him for the first and second drink but then he began noticing the way the man, who he couldn’t remember the name of, started looking at him. His eyes were sleazy and he wouldn’t stop licking his lips.

Isak mumbled something about not feeling good and stumbled away from the bar, but took a seat further down when he realized he was in no shape of walking.

So here he is, feeling like he’s about to pass out right on the stool he’s seated on, telling himself a mantra of _don’t throw up don’t throw up don’t throw up_ silently.

(this, of course, had never worked before but Isak continued to do it, anyway.)

Out of nowhere, he’s interrupted by something poking his shoulder. Isak looks up and has to blink thrice to get his vision right.

“It’s Isak, isn’t it?”

There’s a red-haired man in front of him. Isak doesn’t think he’s ever seen him before in his life, so why he knows his name is a complete mystery to him. Isak can’t bring himself to question this, however, so he simply nods once.

Bad idea. _Fuck_ , when did his head get this fucking heavy?

“It’s Eskild, we talked on Instagram, remember? You know Noora?” The mystery man tries, and it’s a lot more information that Isak can process right now, but yes, he does vaguely remember that so he nods once again.

The man, or _Eskild_ , Isak reminds himself, laughs. “You’re not very talkative, are you?”

Isak screws his face up in discomfort and vigorously rubs his hands over his face.

“Don’t feel too good.” He mumbles, the words a little hard to get out when his tongue and lips have turned numb.

He thinks he can hear Eskild sigh. “You should probably go home, little friend.”

Despite the shape he’s in, Isak glares at Eskild when he hears the nickname. Then, he furiously shakes his head.

“I don’t want to.” He says, stubbornly, like a three-year-old not getting their way.

Eskild lets out a soft chuckle. “You look like you’re about three seconds from either passing out or puking your guts out right here though, so I suggest you do.” He says. “I’ll call you a cab, alright?”

Isak shakes his head again.

He can’t go home. His home is not a home.

(Home is three hundred and four kilometers away.)

-

He ends up at Eskild’s.

Isak pukes all over the sidewalk outside Eskild’s apartment complex and it takes ten minutes for him to walk up the stairs to his flat.

But he gets there, and that’s where home eventually gets a new definition.

-

_Now, September 2016_

His head is pounding and before Isak has even opened his eyes, he’s decided that this is a horrible day. He turns around to lay flat on his back in the bed and reluctantly flickers his eyes open.

Bad idea, it turns out, because the lightning in his room is so fucking bright he feels like his eyes are on fire. Isak wants to roll his eyes at the universe, but stays away from doing so, figures it’ll just hurt his head even more.

An irritated groan leaves Isak’s lips as he sits up and reaches for his phone on the nightstand.

**GUTTAAA**

**Magnus** 11:06

_yoooo boys gr8 night last night_

_isak where the fuck did you go_

**Jonas** 11:10

_all mighty isak probably went off to have his weekend hook_

**Mahdi** 11:10

_why the fuck are you texting this early_

**Magnus** 11:11

_?? it’s noon_

_anyway fuck isak I can’t believe he’ll only use us for the weed then bail with some chick_

**Jonas** 11:12

_like you wouldn’t do the same thing if you had the chance mags_

**Mahdi** 11:12

_magnus hooking up with a girl? sounds fake_

**Magnus** 11:13

[middle finger emoji]

_seriously though is he alive_

_who sleeps for this long_

 

Isak frowns when he skims his eyes over the messages. He left the party early, all the weed and beer made him feel like he was going to fall asleep right in the bathtub him and his friends had colonized. So he had plugged his headphones in and walked the entire way home.

Did he not tell the guys he left? Isak could’ve _sworn_ he did, but judging from the way his friends thought his night played out, he guesses he didn’t.

Maybe it was for the best, in the end. Isak sees a chance, and so he takes it.

 

**GUTTAAA**

**Isak** 12:01

_magnus u seriously need to get some chicks of ur own and stop being caught up with mine_

**Magnus** 12:02

_so you hooked up with someone? who???_

**Jonas** 12:03

_was it that tall girl from last weekend? Jennifer?_

**Isak** 12:04

_i don’t kiss and tell_

**Mahdi** 12:04

_nice, dude_

Isak locks his phone before he’s about to tell the guys that they _seriously_ need to get their priorities straight. He has _no_ idea why they’re so invested in who Isak hooks up with and who he doesn’t.

He doesn’t say anything about it though, lets them think he got lucky last night.

 _Got lucky_. Feels a little strange to think of hooking up that way, but Isak supposes that’s what he should feel if he were to hook up. Lucky.

Isak puts his phone on silent and lets his friends write useless shit in the group chat without bothering him before he kicks of his duvet and make his way to the kitchen. Linn sits at the kitchen table, and Isak gives her a half-heartedly nod and he hears she mumble something in response.

Linn likes communicating about as much as Isak does, and that’s why Isak thinks she’s great. None of them have to try to hard with each other – just some vague _hello’s_ and _bye’s_ and questions on what needs to be bought to the apartment. No unnecessary shit.

 _Eskild_ , however, is another story.

“Good morning, my little friend!”

Eskild’s voice is way too loud and way to high-pitched for a Sunday hangover like this. Isak groans silently and mumbles a _morning_ back, leaves out the _good_ part, because it certainly isn’t.

Eskild leans on the counter besides Isak, coffee cup in hand. “You came home early last night.”

Isak fills another glass with water and takes a sip. “Yeah. Party sucked.” He shrugs.

Eskild shakes his head in despair. “Oh, Isak.” He sighs dramatically. “ _Linn_ does more stuff than you nowadays. Are you already becoming boring? At _seventeen_?”

Isak glares at him. He’s not _boring._ He does stuff all the time.

Sure, _stuff_ might mostly consist of smoking weed with his friends but it’s _something_. And, okay, he’s bailed on a couple of parties recently to stay home and watch Narcos, and the parties he did go to he left pretty early, but Isak’s not _boring_.

Everything else simply is, he decides. His only answer to Eskild’s outrageous statement is a muttered _fuck off_.

“Anyway, you grumpy excuse for a boy,” Eskild starts. “Linn and I decided that it’s cleaning-Sunday today and I _demand_ you to join.” He says, like the words _cleaning_ and _Sunday_ goes together whatsoever.

Before Isak has the chance to tell him _no way in hell_ , Eskild opens his mouth again.

“Maybe you can start in your own room.” He says. “It smells like something died in there.”

Eskild scrunches his nose up like he’s actually in Isak’s room smelling it right now. (which, by the way, doesn’t even smell _that_ bad.) Then, he purses his lips.

“Actually, it wouldn’t surprise me if something _did_ die in there.” He says, looking at Isak. “Maybe it’s the body of old, fun Isak who’s lying in there, rotting away.” Eskild grins.

Isak can only screw his face up in disgust at Eskild’s words. “Gross.” He mumbles and gives Eskild a look before he turns around and starts making his way back to his room.

“Clean, Isak!” Eskild yells behind his back. “If I come in there later and it still smells like seventeen year old guy, you’re moving out!” He warns, and Isak hastily wonders how it’s not supposed to smell like seventeen year old guy in there when that’s exactly what he is.

Isak watches four episodes of _Friends_ and plays boring games on his phone for thirty minutes before he actually starts contemplating whether he should clean his room or not. He decides, after a while, that he can’t take another minute of Eskild’s nagging and so he starts.

Isak vacuums the floor, empties the room from dirty dishes and picks up laundry from the floor. He doesn’t bother changing his sheets though, that’s _way_ too much work for him to handle.

He feels oddly proud of himself when he’s done, standing in the middle of the clean room. When his eyes stops at his closet though, he feels himself let out an involuntary sigh. Isak’s been putting off to fix that ever since when he moved in and had just crammed every piece of clothing he owned into it. So, now it’s currently overflowing with huge winter coats and sweaters that Isak is pretty sure will explode out if he tries to open the door.

No, Isak decides. That’s a task for another day.

He does, however, decide that the bookshelf in his room needs some organization. Isak squats down, figures he’ll start with the bottom shelf. He begins throwing away old homework sheets, lighters that are out of gas and then lifts away some old magazines.

Then he spots it. Isak doesn’t need to look twice to know what it is, already feels his pulse starting to pick up just by looking at the little box.

He hesitantly reaches out to lift it up, argues with himself for a second on whether it’s a good idea or not but decides _fuck it._ It’s time he got over himself.

When Isak opens the lid and picks up one drawing, he feels his heart jump in his chest and almost immediately regrets opening the damn box up.

Isak lets his eyes trail over the drawing slowly until he stops at the words _by: even bech næsheim_ messily scribbled at the top right corner. He goes through the rest of them, and even though he always used to grin when he looked at the drawings when he was thirteen, there’s not even a hint of a smile on his face now.

The drawings are the only real proof that Even had actually been a part of his life once – that he wasn’t just something Isak had hallucinated all those years ago. Isak rarely thought about him now. He used to though – he used to not be able to think about anything else other than Even after he left. Isak doesn’t like to think about that time, the time where his chest ached painfully with every beating of his heart.

After months of sulking, he told himself it was time to let go of it – and so he did. Perhaps he didn’t exactly let go of it, of _Even_ , just suppressed the thought of him far, far back into his mind and busied himself with school or Jonas or football. It all worked pretty okay – until he saw or read something that reminded him of Even and he’d fall right back into it. Missing Even was like a hunger, Isak felt. A starvation he could never eat his way out from.

It got better, eventually. Or perhaps it didn’t get better, but it got easier, somehow.

He got used to it.

The thought of Even hadn’t crossed Isak’s mind in a while now – last time was when he saw Sonja at the supermarket months ago and immediately Isak started wondering whether her and Even were still together or not.

Isak searched for Even’s name in the Instagram search bar first thing when he got home, but surprisingly, he didn’t find a thing. The whole account was gone, and so was his Facebook. So he tried Sonja, but ended up with no luck because, _of course_ , her page was on private.

Isak hadn’t thought about Even since, but now with the drawings made by him scattered around his legs, he did nothing else but to think of him.

They hadn’t talked since Isak walked out Even’s house that afternoon all those years ago, except for the three messages Even had sent him. Isak never replied. He wanted to though, still hasn’t forgot how his heart sped up its pace each time he got one of them. He typed out at least ten different responses to every text but ended up sending none of them. He’s not sure why. He chickened out, he supposes.

Isak is abruptly distracted from his thoughts when he hears his door slam open. He whips his head around quickly, and _of course_ , finds Eskild at the door.

Eskild glances around his room, and then his eyes land on Isak where he sits on the floor.

“Nice work, baby Jesus.” He says, clearly impressed, his eyebrows raised like he _never_ would have believed Isak is capable of cleaning his own room.

Isak rolls his eyes. “I’m not five, Eskild. I know how to clean a room.”

Eskild’s expression changes and he cocks one eyebrow at Isak. “Sometimes I think you are.”

Then, because Eskild has no idea what personal space is, he walks over and flings himself onto Isak’s bed. Isak watches him with a death glare the entire walk but Eskild ignores him and looks down at Isak and the paper sheets scattered around him.

He nods towards the drawings. “What’s that?” He asks, the nosy fucker that he is.

Isak quickly starts to collect the drawings spread out in front of him. “Nothing.” He grumbles and gently puts the drawings back in the box.

“Is that… _you_ in cartoon form?” He asks, eyeing one of the drawings with squinted eyes and Isak glares at him.

“Mind your business, Eskild.”

Isak puts the box back onto the shelf and hears Eskild sigh beside him.

“Okay, okay, I was just going to tell you that we’re going out for Chinese food and I, the nice person that I am, was wondering if you’d like to join us or if you’re staying in here and gloat in misery?”

Isak chews on his bottom lip. Chinese sounds delicious, but he’s also aware that his dad never sends him money in time and that Isak’s bank account _cannot_ handle eating out at the moment. It’s whatever – he’ll just heat up some pizza, make some noodles, or something.

“Actually, I’m – I think I’m just gonna –” Isak doesn’t understand why he can’t just straight up tell Eskild that he’s broke, he figures he probably understands that Isak doesn’t have the best economy when he’s seventeen with no job and a rent to pay, still he can’t decline without coming up with some sort of excuse.

Eskild seems to notice he’s struggling though, and he smiles. “It’s my treat. You did such a good job of cleaning your room, I thought you’d need a little reward.”

Isak swallows. Feels bad. “No, you don’t have to.” He says, shaking his head.

Eskild waves his hand dismissively. “Shut up and take my offering. We’re leaving in fifteen, get your ass up and put on a nice shirt.”

Eskild leans over to pat his head and then he walks out the door from Isak’s room.

Isak smiles to himself. Eskild is kinda alright, he thinks.

-

Two days later, Isak’s dad transfers money over to him. He buys pizza for Eskild and Linn.

-

Lunch this day at school is pretty much like any other – Magnus pines over Vilde (girls, in general, actually) and Isak picks at the dry bun he picked out from the cafeteria. Not his finest choice, since this particular one happened to contain _raisins_ , the invention of Satan himself, and Isak eventually gives up on trying to remove them and decides he’ll fucking _starve_ instead. He’s not going near raisins, okay, it’s not happening.

Isak pans out during Magnus’ talk, can’t be bothered to listen to yet another rant about girls, doesn’t understand how Magnus can speak of them every single day and _still_ have shit left to say about them the next. It’s beyond Isak, really. His own contribution when they talk about girls is usually answering yes or no on whether he’d fuck someone or not, nodding along and agreeing when someone else makes a point he thinks sounds good on the matter.

Isak can’t be bothered with anything else, and quite frankly, he’s fairly certain he’d make a fool out of himself if he tried.

Suddenly, someone nudges at his shoulder. Isak looks to his side and finds Jonas staring at him, and then notices how the table has gone quiet and three pairs of eyes pointing at him.

Isak frowns and shrugs in confusion. “What?” He asks, dumfounded.

Jonas chuckles. “Man, where are you at?” He shakes his head. “I asked if you’re joining that party on Friday? That guy from Bakka invited us, remember?”

Isak does remember that, yes. He also remembers that he gave Jonas a very vague response, mumbling something a long the lines of _we’ll see_ _later_ to not decline the offer right away. It’s later now, Isak guesses.

Fuck, he was _not_ feeling another party this weekend. Isak had been looking forward to a Narcos marathon with himself and hopefully catching up on some sleep he’d been neglected to the entire week. Also, the fact that it’s a _Elvebakken_ party they’re talking about makes the thought even so more unappetizing. Isak doesn’t think he’ll stand an entire night at a place crammed with pretentious Bakka-nerds.

So, why can’t he just fucking _say_ that? It’s not like his friends would kick him out of their little group if he did – at most, Isak would get some complaints about him being a flaking friend or Magnus telling him he’s a traitor.

Maybe that’s what Isak doesn’t want, though. He knows his friends doesn’t mean anything bad when they give him shit - it’s just jokes, but it’s constantly _Isak_ who’s the only one who doesn’t want to go out partying or hook up while it felt like that’s _all_ his friends wants to do.

He can’t figure out what the hell his own problem is. Maybe there’s just so much expectations around him all the time – maybe he can’t live up to half of them.

Maybe he should just suck it up and go to the damn party.

Isak nods after a moment of silence. “Okay, yeah.” He gives in. “I’ll join.”

Magnus erupts in a loud _yes!,_ leans over the table and holds his hand up for Isak to high-five. Isak reluctantly does, but eyes him weirdly.

“No one high-fives anymore.” Isak says.

“Would a bro-fist be better?” Magnus asks and Isak scrunches his eyebrows together.

“No, Magnus,” Isak says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “a bro-fist would _not_ be better.”

Jonas laughs from his side and pats Isak on the shoulder. “It’ll be awesome.” He says.

Isak isn’t convinced, but nods anyway.

“Magnus,” Mahdi starts, pointing his index finger warningly toward him. “You’re getting the beer.”

Magnus lets out a loud groan. He throws his head back and covers his face with his hands like he just found out the worst news of his life.

“ _No_.” He mutters. “Fuck.”

Isak feels a grin grow on his face. At least he’s not on beer duty.

-

The party turns out to be just like Isak imagined it would – hipsters around every corner and music he’s never fucking heard of in his life.

It’s just a little over ten when Isak and his entourage stumbles into the entrance of the house. Isak is probably just a little more drunk than he should be – during the pregame they’d managed to check off about every fucking drinking game in the book and somehow, Isak had ended up taking way more shots than anybody else.

Then again, it’s probably for the best if he’s going to survive the night.

Magnus and Mahdi quickly ends up in a _very_ serious game of beer pong which Isak doesn’t have the time to join before Jonas tugs at his arm and mumbles something about smoking, and frankly, there’s no way Isak can say no to that.

Him, Jonas and a couple of guys from Bakka who Jonas knows ends up outside on the patio. Isak would probably be freezing his ass of in his thin t-shirt had he not been as tipsy as he currently finds himself.

“ _Shit_ ,” Isak curses as he takes a long drag from the joint resting between his fingers. “This is some good stuff.”

He passes it over to Jonas who nods knowingly. “I know.” He says, then puts the joint between his lips. Jonas inhales and the proceeds to blow out the smoke in perfectly shaped circles.

“Hey,” Jonas begins then, looks at one of the guys sitting with them. Erik, Isak believes is his name. “The girls here are hot as _fuck,_ man.”

Erik nods and takes a hit from what once was a soda bottle but has now turned into a homemade bong. “You Nissen guys come here and charm all our girls.” He shakes his head, a grin spreads on his lips. “I’ll never invite you again.”

Jonas laughs. “Don’t worry about us, Isak is probably too picky for all the girls here, anyway.” He says.

Isak laughs despite not finding it funny. He doesn’t understand how he managed to get dragged into this conversation without even _saying_ anything. His usual luck, he guesses. There are probably a thousand things he’d rather do then have this conversation right now – hell, he’d even talk about some indie band with one of the geeks inside over this.

Isak takes another drag from the joint and avoids what Jonas just said. Apparently, much to Isak’s dismay, he wasn’t done talking.

“I’ll find you a girl tonight, don’t worry. I’m gonna be the ultimate wingman.” Jonas says proudly and pats Isak’s shoulder, like he’s doing him a favor.

Isak wishes he’d just lay off his back for a while, wants Jonas to understand that _maybe_ Isak has other shit to care about than hooking up with girls constantly. This, however, seems like it would be a complete foreign and unacceptable concept to Jonas (and all other boys his age, quite frankly) so he doesn’t say anything.

Instead, he just scoffs and says “I think I’ll manage on my own, your standards are _horrendously_ low.”

As it turns out a couple of minutes later, he _really_ shouldn’t have said that.

Jonas nudges his arm against Isak’s and nods toward the door where a swarm of girls had just walked out. Isak notices one of them immediately – it’s Emma.

He’d met her at a couple of parties before, they’d hooked up and then Isak had left her looking disappointed every time. For some reason that Isak couldn’t understand, Emma still seemed interested in him.

Isak supposes she’s quite attractive – short hair and brown eyes and a body so small Isak felt like he was going to break her every time he’d touch her.

Emma was a little keen though, maybe _too_ keen and didn’t really get the hint that Isak wasn’t as interested as she was. Not that Isak was good at giving those hints though – he laughed half-heartedly at her jokes and made out with her and that seemed to be enough for her.

Isak felt like letting out a deep sigh and he wondered what the hell she was even _doing_ here when she went to Nissen like Isak himself, and not Bakka.

Jonas looked at Isak with so much excitement though, and mumbled something about _that’s your girl_ and Isak knew he didn’t really have much of a choice but to talk to her. And so he stood up, ignored the hushed good luck’s from the boys behind him and took off the uninterested-unbothered-Isak and put on charmer-Isak instead.

Emma seemed a little surprised that Isak was the one to approach her first when it usually was the other way around, so was she was giggling and biting her lip and touching his arm even more than she usually did. When she asks Isak if he wants to dance his immediate thought is _absolutely fucking not_ , but he nods, lets Emma grab onto his hand and drag him inside anyway.

-

 _Dancing_ , as it turns out, meant more of _make out in the middle of the dancefloor_ because that was the position Isak found himself in at the moment. Emma’s hands in his hair, her lips moving against his and Isak’s hands gripping on to her waist. He never really understood _where_ exactly he’s supposed to put his hands while hooking up with someone, but guesses that the hips is an alright spot for hand-placement.

Isak got bored, after a while. He usually did while making out, because _alright_ , he supposes it could be nice in the beginning but after a couple of minutes he didn’t really see the point in continuing to shove his tongue into another persons mouth. Isak fluttered his eyes open while Emma continued to press her lips against his, figured he could try to entertain himself with watching what other drunken idiots were up to. There wasn’t too much entertaining stuff going on – a couple of crying girls, someone embarrassing themselves by trying to breakdance, a guy spilling his bear over a white rug.

Isak’s eyes continues to roam the room until they stop at a group of guys standing in the doorway to the kitchen. Isak thinks there’s something familiar about one of them, he can’t quite catch his face but there’s still something recognizable about him that Isak can’t pinpoint. Then, the guy laughs and Isak doesn’t miss how his whole body moves with it and when he hears the faint sound of his chuckle, Isak freezes.

He’s memorized that laugh, knows it like all the words to his favorite song, couldn’t ever forget about it. Isak spent years adoring it, spent years hearing it _every day_ and missed it with every fiber of his being when he didn’t get to hear it anymore.

But that’s ridiculous. It can’t be –

The guy turns around, and _it is_.

Even is standing there, in the same room as Isak, in the same _city_ as Isak and suddenly his lungs loses their ability to provide him with air. He looks different, of course, four years and puberty will do that to you, but Isak can still tell that it’s him, doesn’t think there will ever be a time where he could not _not_ recognize him.

Isak is pretty sure he’s not even kissing Emma back at this point, he can’t really do anything else than stare at what used to be his best friend standing a couple of meters away.

Then, like Isak wasn’t in complete shock already, Even turns his head and suddenly his eyes are boring right into Isak’s from across the room. Isak stares right back him, can’t look away, can’t do anything else than look into eyes that feel so familiar but foreign at the same time.

Emma, who seemed to have given up on kissing someone who doesn’t reciprocate it, had started pressing kisses to Isak’s jaw and neck instead and didn’t seem to notice the way Isak was completely frozen in his spot. The way Even is looking at him is making Isak’s heart race like he’s just ran a marathon and he’s fairly certain that he can hear the sound of his own heartbeat in his ears. He needs to look away.

So he does. Isak takes a step back from Emma, pushes her off him and mumbles about needing to get air before he turns around and makes his way through the crowd, pushing people left and right as he does. He can’t bring himself to care about the angry glances he gets – his mind is occupied with blue eyes and a stare that’s making his knees weak.

In the end, Isak doesn’t end up getting air. He stumbles into the bathroom, quickly locks the door and sits on the toilet, head in his hands.

He feels pathetic when he feels the way his hands tremble – it’s just Even.

 _Just Even_. Just his best friend who left him four years ago with what felt like a shattered heart and a hole in his chest that never really stopped aching.

Even looked a lot like he did four years ago and yet like a completely different person at the same time. Maybe he was – Isak had no idea. There was something oddly sad about that fact – that he truly had no idea what Even’s life had been like for the last four years or what he had been up to, when Isak’s entire world once rotated around him.

Isak thought he was over it, he really did, but as it turns out, he feels the exact same way he did when he lost Even four years ago and _fuck,_ is that pathetic.

Isak stands up after a while, tries to collect himself and curses at himself in the mirror when he sees the utter mess that he is. He tells himself to get it together, and then he walks out the door.

Isak isn’t sure what he’s going to do now. He doesn’t want to find Emma again, and he sure as hell isn’t going back to where Even was. He doesn’t have time to ponder over it long before there’s a hand on his shoulder.

Isak looks to his right and finds Magnus standing beside him.

“There you are!” He shouts over the music. “You’ve got to help me out man, I’m getting _humiliated_ in beer pong right now.”

Isak tries to smile – it probably doesn’t go that well but he doesn’t think Magnus notices. He lets Magnus grab onto his arm and bring him to the kitchen where the game is going on.

Isak tries half-heartedly to put the ball in the cup, but it’s hard to focus on something so meaningless like beer pong when someone like Even is currently at the same location as Isak.

The fact that his hands are still shaking doesn’t make things less hard.

After a while, Isak catches the sight of Even again. His heart jumps the same way it did the first time. Isak watches him as he slips out the door to the patio and stops to think for a while.

He _could_ just go out there and talk to him. The sober version of Isak probably could’ve thought of _a lot_ of worst case possible scenarios, but drunk him is blissfully unaware of all of them, and so he walked out the kitchen, carefully slid the door to the patio open and stepped out in the September air.

And there he is. Alone, fortunately, with a cigarette hanging between his lips. Even’s hair had gotten a little longer and he styled it differently than when he was fifteen, his jaw was more defined and Isak thinks he looks taller, but other than that, he looked a lot like he did when he was Isak’s best friend.

Even doesn’t seem to notice Isak where he stands, and all the different ways Isak practiced he’d greet him feels useless now. So, fuck that. He’ll be a little blunt. He always used to be back in the days so, if not, Even would at least recognize him from that.

“You really shouldn’t smoke cigarettes.” He blurts out and that’s – well, not exactly what he’d imagined his first words would to Even if he ever were to speak to him again.

Even whips his head around, and his eyes catches Isak’s own. They’re as blue as ever.

Even doesn’t say anything for a moment, and Isak begins to think he fucked up. Maybe Even thought he was rude – or maybe he didn’t even recognize him after all? Maybe Isak shouldn’t have fucking walked out here in the first place.

But – slowly, a smile grows on Even’s lips. Isak had almost forgotten what it looked like; the way Even smiled with his entire face, eyes crinkling at the corners. Seeing it now made breathing feel a lot more difficult than it should be.

“Are you telling me how to live my life?” He asks, brows raised, smile still evident on his lips.

Isak takes a couple of steps forward. “No.” He replies. “It’s just, like, facts.” He states, ignores the aggressive beating of his heart and continues to walk forward until he’s standing next to Even. It’s a little intimidating, _Even_ is a little intimidating, and Isak doesn’t think he’d ever be standing here if it wasn’t for the wonderful invention of alcohol. He makes a mental thank you to whoever came up with that.

Even looks at him, and then he lets out a soft chuckle. “Yeah,” He begins, and then takes a drag from the cigarette. “You always liked facts.”

Something about that makes Isak feel sad, almost; both the fact that Even remembered that about him, but also how they hadn’t talked in so long that Even wasn’t sure if he was right anymore.

Isak feels a little brave, and he sits down next to Even. “I still do.” He confirms. “Facts don’t lie.”

Even grins at that. “You can’t explain _everything_ with facts, though.”

Isak supposes he’s right. He doesn’t think there are any facts or science as to why Even’s smile is making Isak feel like he’s finally able to breathe again while completely breathless at the same time. It’s just an _Even_ thing, Isak decides.

“ _Almost_ everything.” Isak settles for.

Even grins. “Almost…” He trails off, like he’s thinking. Then, he nods. “Okay, I’ll take almost.”

He exhales a white cloud of smoke, Isak watches it as it disappears into air. It feels a little surreal, and he briefly wonders if maybe he’s hallucinating Even’s presence, he did smoke _a lot_ , but when Even’s arm accidently brushes against his own, Isak knows he’s not dreaming. Nothing he hallucinated could ever feel like that.

“So,” Isak begins. “You’re here.” He says intelligently and _wow_ , good point Isak.

Even stubs the cigarette against the patio they’re sitting on. He nods once. “I am.” He says. “So are you.” Even turns to look at Isak, blue eyes gazing straight into green. Isak should look away, _really_ , but Even’s eye catches his own with so much intensity it feels close to impossible to turn his gaze away.

“Yeah,” Isak starts. He swallows. “But I didn’t move to Bergen four years ago.”

Even breaks the eye contact then, looks down at his lap. He licks his lips. “True.” He nods.

Isak blinks. “So, are you visiting or something?” Isak tries, hopes Even will give him _somewhat_ of an answer as to why he’s sitting next to him right now.

There’s a moment of silence. Then, Even shakes his head. “I moved back.”

Isak’s breath hitches in his throat. Before he can ask any questions like _why when how_ Even beats him to it.

“We got here, like, a month ago. In time for school to start.” He says.

Isak feels a frown grow on his face. Isak’s pretty good at math – and he’s damn sure that by his calculations Even should’ve already be done with school, should’ve graduated last term. Even seems to notice the confusion on his face, because Isak doesn’t even need to ask the question before Even’s answered it.

“I had to do redo my last year.” Even says. “So…” He trails off, and gestures around himself. “Here I am. Go to Bakka now.”

If there wasn’t so much tension in the air, Isak probably would’ve joked about how Even follows the _exact_ stereotype of a Bakka student. He saves that for some other time.

Isak holds in the question to ask why Even had to repeat his year, too. He figures it might not be something he’d want to share with someone he hasn’t talked to in four years.

He also doesn’t say anything about the fact that Even had been back for a month and hadn’t contacted him. Isak supposes it’s his own fault – he didn’t really give Even the impression he wanted to speak to him when he didn’t respond to his messages. There’s a sudden urge in him to tell Even he’s sorry – that there could never be a time where he didn’t want to talk to him.

He stays away from doing that. It doesn’t matter how intoxicated he is, Isak doesn’t think he could utter those words, for some reason.

(Maybe Even doesn’t think the same way about him.)

Isak looks at him. Even’s chewing at his bottom lip, his gaze focused somewhere in front of him.

“How are you and Sonja?” Isak blurts out, without giving the question a second thought.

Even glances at him. He drags a hand through his hair. “We got married, actually.”

Isak almost chokes on his own tongue, feels his eyes widen as he looks for any signs that Even is joking on his face, because he’s – that’s not – he _has_ to be joking, right?

Even looks completely serious, though – he looks like he didn’t just tell Isak he _married_ his high school girlfriend.

Isak is at a lack of words – his mouth opens and closes and then opens up again but every word he thinks of saying just sounds _wrong_. He tries to hide the absolute fucking _shock_ currently flowing in his body but doesn’t think he’s succeeding very well. Even looks at him then – and if he sees the expression on Isak’s face, he doesn’t say anything about it.

“Happened like, a year ago. In Italy.” He shrugs carelessly. “Pretty cool.”

Even is talking about him being married like it’s the most casual thing – like he’s talking about a nice dinner he had a Italy, not a fucking _wedding_.

“I -” Isak starts, but Even cuts him off.

“I think she might be cheating on me, though.” He says, eyebrows scrunching together like he’s in deep thought. “There was this like – Italian _prince_ , or whatever, on our honeymoon. And I – I don’t know, I feel like there might be something going on there.”

Isak just stares at him in complete speechlessness, then notices how the corner of Even’s mouth starts twitching and it clicks in his mind.

Even’s fucking with him.

“Oh my god,” Isak exclaims. “ _Fuck you_ , honestly. You can’t - ” Isak shakes his head, can’t get his words out when Even’s laughing next to him like it’s the funniest thing in the world.

“I forgot about how fucking gullible you are.” Even says through his laughter. “You really think I got married?” He wheezes out and Isak gives him a weak hit on his upper arm.

“What am I _supposed_ to think?” He almost yells. “Just – you’re the _worst_ , holy shit.”

Isak glares at him, but can’t help the laugh that escapes his lips. Even’s still chuckling, clearly _very_ amused by the situation.

It feels sentimental – laughing with Even like this. Isak feels like he’s thirteen and sitting in Even’s room again. It feels… it feels _genuine_. And things feeling genuine is such a rare thing for Isak, nowadays.

But this – this feels so real now. Things always used to with Even.

It doesn’t feel weird, or awkward. It doesn’t feel like it’s been years since they last done this.

Isak had imagined it would, back when he used to lay awake at night and think about Even and how things would turn out if he’d ever met him again. Isak isn’t sure why he thought things would be strange with him again – everything had always been so simple, with Even.

Even if Isak wasn’t, Even always was. Simple.

“I wish I’d gotten a picture of your face there,” Even grins. “Man, that was good.”

Isak rolls his eyes at him. “Hilarious.”

The laughter dies out eventually, and then Even says “Yeah, no, we didn’t get married.” He’s quiet for a moment. “We actually broke up about two years after I moved.”

And – oh. _Oh_.

“That sucks.” Isak mumbles, unsure of what to say. He’s always unsure of what to say to Even, it seems.

 Isak glances over to Even, who’s already looking at him.

“Yeah.” Even says, and then he smiles. Isak thinks it’s a little odd to smile while talking about breaking up with your girlfriend, but he’d never complain about seeing Even’s grin.

“What about you?” Even asks. “Is that your girlfriend in there?”

Isak has to think for a while before he understands that Even means Emma. He almost wants to laugh – he’s not sure why the thought of Emma being his girlfriend is humorous, it just is.

(Maybe because she’s as far away from Isak’s type there is, not that he knows what his _type_ is, he just knows Emma isn’t it.)

“Oh, no.” Isak says, shaking his head. “No, that’s Emma. She’s not – we’re not together or anything.”

Even nods, and that’s that.

A comfortable silence fall among them, the muffled noise of the party going on inside the house being the only audible sound in the air. Isak isn’t sure if it’s the weed or alcohol or Even – but there’s this sense of calm filling his body, from his toes to his head, making him relax like he hasn’t done in a while now.

Like he hasn’t in four years.

“Do you know what the best thing to do at parties is?” Even suddenly asks, breaking the silence.

Isak shakes his head.

Even doesn’t explain further, only begins to dig in his pockets and proceeds to pull out a pair of headphones. He plugs them in to his phone, puts one of the earbuds in his ear and offers the other one to Isak. Isak eyes him strangely, but takes the earbud and puts it in his ear.

Even starts to browse among his Spotify playlists, decides one a song and puts his phone down in his lap. It’s Nas – of course it is, Isak guesses that’s something that hasn’t changed about Even.

“ _This_ is the best thing to you to do at parties?” Isak asks, huffs out a laugh. “Listen to music by your own?”

Even grins and nods. “Yes.” He says. Isak can hear him swallow. “I’m not on my own now, though, am I?”

Isak blinks. “No.”

They let the music fill up the silence that follows. After the song ends, Isak takes the phone from Even’s hands from where he picked it up from his lap.

“Let me see what you got.” He says and starts scrolling down his playlist. There’s a lot of stuff there Even always used to listen to before – Nas and Drake and fucking _Lady Gaga_ of course, but there’s new additions, too. Frank Ocean, Justin Bieber, Childish Gambino and –

“ _Gabrielle_?” Isak asks disbelievingly, eyebrows raised toward Even.

Even looks clueless. “What?” He says, like having Gabrielle on your playlist isn’t something to be ashamed of at all.

“You can’t possibly like this crap.”

Isak _really_ shouldn’t be this surprised. Even’s fondness of the shittiest music possible shouldn’t surprise him anymore.

“I really thought you’d grown out of this by now, Isak.” Even sighs and shakes his head in despair, and him saying Isak’s name shouldn’t make Isak’s heart clench, but it does.

(His heart had never listened to what it _should_ and shouldn’t do, anyway.)

Isak doesn’t have time to answer before the door to the patio is swung open and he hears his name being called from behind him.

Isak looks back instinctively, sees Jonas stick his head out.

“There you are, man.” He says, and Isak sees the way his eyes flicker to Even, but just as quickly focuses on Isak again. “We’re going to McDonalds. You joining?”

Isak licks his lips. There’s nothing else he’d rather to than stay here with Even for a while longer – but he nods anyway.

“I’m coming.” He says, and Jonas nods and goes back inside.

Isak turns his gaze back to Even. He’s already looking back at him.

“I should go.” He says, but the way his voice comes out gives him away that he doesn’t want to at all.

Even nods once. “Alright.”

Isak removes his earbud and stands up, brushes his hands against his jeans as he does. He chews at his lips and has no idea how to say goodbye now.

For the first time since he talked to Even tonight, he feels awkward.

“Well -” Isak begins, but Even cuts him off.

“I’ll see you around, right?” Even looks up at him, with what Isak thinks is hopefulness pooling in his eyes.

“Yeah.” Isak exhales. He gives him a vague smile.

Even smiles back. “Okay.” He says. “Bye, then.”

“Bye.” Isak answers, doesn’t want to look away from blue eyes glancing up at him, but does anyway. Then he turns around and starts making his way outside, ignores the pounding in his ears.

He’s just about to walk through the door when Even’s voice stops him.

“Hey, Isak?”

Isak turns his head automatically to look at him. He watches as a grin spreads across Even’s lips.

“It was nice seeing you again.”

-

Isak, Jonas and Magnus go to McDonalds. They laugh and eat and act like drunken idiots and it feels okay, _great_ even.

But then Isak finds himself in bed alone, with nothing but _Even Even Even_ on his mind and he doesn’t know how to feel anymore.

He wishes he knew though. He really wishes he knew.

-

 **Dad** 12:33

_Hi Isak. I think it would be great for your mother if you visited her this week. I could drive you if you’d like._

Isak stares at the message before he locks his phone and leaves the message unanswered, like all the other texts from his dad. He pushes the thought of his father and mother out of his head, doesn’t need this Monday to suck more than it already does.

Isak is in math class – book open in front of him and Jonas next to him. Neither of them are paying much attention to whatever the teacher is saying – Jonas is doodling something in his book and Isak is looking at his phone.

Suddenly, Jonas nudges him with his elbow carefully and Isak looks over.

Jonas keeps his eyes on his book when he asks “Who was that dude you were with on Saturday?”

Isak stills for a moment, but makes himself relax quickly. No need to get weird just talking about Even.

“Uh, you remember – you remember Even, right?” Isak asks, staring at Jonas while he doodles flowers. Jonas hums.

“Yeah, I remember him.” He looks up. “Was that him?”

Isak nods. “Yeah, he moved away, remember? And now he’s moved back, apparently.”

Jonas hums again. “Oh. That’s cool. So are you guys like, hanging out now, or what?”

Isak wishes he could answer yes, _yes we’re friends again and nothing has changed._ But truth is, he has no fucking idea.

“I don’t know.” Isak answers truthfully. “We hadn’t talked in four years until Saturday, so things are a little weird, I guess.”

Jonas shrugs and scrunches his bushy brows together. “You were best friends, though. What’s weird?”

Isak swallows. Jonas is right, he supposes – nothing really felt weird when they had talked, it felt like they hadn’t been away from each other for so long at all, it felt _natural,_ somehow.

But now, Isak had no idea how to contact Even again – he couldn’t write to him on Facebook since Even didn’t have a profile anymore. He did still have Even’s number saved, he could never find it in him to delete it, but that would be weird, wouldn’t it? To just send him a text after four years. Isak didn’t even know if Even had the same number or wanted to talk to him again, even though he had kind of implied he did. That could have just been common curtesy.

Isak just – he doesn’t know shit.

He shrugs. “I don’t know. It just is.”

Jonas licks his lips. “You should like, text him or something. It’s not weird. I’m sure he’ll be happy to hear from you.”

Isak suppresses a smile. Jonas is a good friend, he thinks.

He nods once.  “Yeah. Maybe.” Isak says.

-

Isak thinks about it. He thinks about sending a text to Even during biology, during lunch and during the walk to the tram from school.

He thinks about it until he gets on the tram, busy staring at his phone screen when there’s someone greeting him beside him and he doesn’t think about it anymore.

Isak looks up, but he already knows who it is.

Even’s standing there – blue eyes looking bright as always and a small smile spread on his lips.

“Hi.” Isak answers him, voice coming out a little breathless.

“Going home?” Even asks.

Isak nods. “You?”

Even drags hand through his hair. “On my way to a friend, actually.”

Isak nods again. A little disappointed, maybe – Even taking the same tram home as Isak would’ve been pretty cool, Isak thinks.

(it would’ve been a great opportunity.)

They turn quiet then, and it feels a little awkward. Isak shifts on his feet, licks his lips nervously while racking his brain for something to say.

He doesn’t come up with anything, but turns out, he doesn’t need to. Even takes one of his earbuds out of his ear and offers it to Isak. Isak takes it, puts it in his ear and listens to a male voice singing.

“Who’s this?” Isak asks, aware that he’s most likely making a fool of himself by asking.

Even doesn’t tease him about not knowing, though. He just smiles and answers “Frank Ocean.”

Isak hums. “I haven’t really listened to him.” He admits.

“You should.”

“I don’t know if I should take music advice from someone who genuinely enjoys Gabrielle.” Isak grins.

Even rolls his eyes, and lets out a laugh.  “When are you getting over your ridiculously lame hatred for pop music, Isak?” Even asks. “It’s been _years_.”

Isak raises his brows.

“When are _you_ getting over loving ridiculously lame pop music?” He says back, and Even scoffs.

“You must live a very boring life, Isak Valtersen. Listen to some Gabrielle, take a walk on the bright side for once.” Even jokes, and Isak knows he’s doing just that – joking – but still, the smile on Isak lips falters a little bit when he hears Even’s words. Something about them feels true – feels way too close to heart than they seem.

Even seem to notice something about Isak’s face changing. “Don’t worry. Hip-hop works, too.” He quickly says.

Isak only smiles. He wishes he wasn’t so fucking stupid.

They fall quiet again, but this time the silence isn’t as bad when they’ve got music streaming through the headphones in their ears. Frank Ocean then sings something about not being kids no more, and Isak wants to rip the headphones out from his ears, the lyrics feeling a little _too_ accurate to listen to with Even.

It’s abruptly over when the music suddenly stops and Isak looks at Even holding his phone in his hands, notices that he paused the music.

Even just looks at him, and Isak frowns.

A smile tugs at the corner of Even’s mouth. “Do you wanna hang out?”

And that’s – not what Isak expected.

“Uh – when?” He asks, startled by the suggestion.

Even shrugs. “Whenever. Tonight?”

Isak licks his lips. There’s a sudden feeling at the pit of his stomach – something unexplainable, something that’s making him both excited and nervous at the same time. But he nods eventually, because even though he’s not sure of much, he at least knows he _really_ wants to hang out with Even.

“Okay, yeah.” Isak replies. “We’ll hang out tonight.”

Even’s grin spreads wider. “What do you wanna do, then?” He asks, eyebrows raised.

 _Anything_ , Isak thinks, but doesn’t say, thinks he could stare into a wall for hours without getting bored in Even’s company.

A thought pops into Isak’s mind. He grins.

“How about I’ll destroy you FIFA?”

-

At seven that night, Isak stands outsides Even’s apartment complex. He doesn’t live in the house he used to before he moved, obviously, and Isak only got a _little_ lost before he found his way to his new home. Now, standing here, he feels nervousness pool in his stomach, which is stupid – if he could stop it, he would, but no matter how much he tells himself that _it’s just Even_ , he can’t seem to get it through his skull.

He takes a breath, opens the door and walks up the stairs to Even’s flat. He hesitates a little before he knocks sharply twice on the door. It takes a couple of seconds before the door opens, but then it does and there Even stands. He’s dressed in a gray hoodie and his hair is un-styled, laying flat against his forehead. Isak thinks he looks a lot younger like this.

Even tilts his head and smiles. “Hey.” He greets him.

Isak smiles back. “Hi.”

Even steps aside and lets Isak walk in. He hangs his jacket on a rack filled with countless other coats and steps out of his shoes, and then trails behind Even who walks into what Isak assumes is the living room.

Even flings himself onto the couch and Isak sits down beside him.

Isak has only spent a minute in Even’s home, but he already feels at home. The apartment is cozy – there’s a huge bookshelf in the living room, Isak recalls that Even’s dad loved reading, and then there’s a couple of candles and the same knitted blanket they had when they were younger. Even’s mother was tremendously proud over knitting that one when they were kids, Isak remembers.

“My parents are coming home in a couple of hours, I think.” Even says, busy getting the game started up. “I think they’d be happy to meet you.”

Isak nods. He’d be happy to meet them too, if he was being honest – Even’s parents had always been nice to him, _too nice_ to him, they’d felt more like parents to him than his own most times.

“Alright. That’d be great.” Isak answers.

Even hands him a controller then. “I trust you’ve had some training these four years.”

Isak gives him the most serious look he can muster. “Buckle up, Bech Næsheim.”

-

Isak wins.

He _wins_ over _Even_ in FIFA. Actually, no, scratch that – he kicks Even’s fucking _ass_ in FIFA.

When the match is over, and the results are clear, Isak throws his controller to the side and fist pumps the air.

“Ha!” Isak exclaims, and stands up. “I told you! I _told_ you!” He yells. “I’m the fucking _master_ of FIFA!”

It’s probably not healthy to be as excited as Isak is over winning right now, but after years of always being the loser, he can’t stop himself.

Even only looks at him in pure amusement, laughs when Isak does a winner dance which Isak, in all honesty, probably should stay away from doing because he’s pretty sure it’s making him look like an idiot. Even only seems to find it funny, though, clutching at his stomach from his laughter.

“Okay, okay!” Even chuckles, holds his hands up in defeat. “You won _one_ game, you’re the best, I get it.”

“I’m so much better than I used to be.” Isak brags. “You better get used to it.” He says, before he can understand the weight of the words he said – Isak doesn’t even know if there will be more times for Even to get used to this, he hopes, sure, but he doesn’t think he should take that for granted.

Even doesn’t seem to mind, he only grins. “I think I’ll manage to get used to that.” He says. “I’ll just find something else to beat you at.” He shrugs.

Isak lets out a breath, and rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I’m sure you will.”

Even is quiet for a moment, and then he places his controller on the table in front of him. He chews at his bottom lip, looks at Isak like he’s thinking furiously. Then, there’s a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Do you wanna smoke?”

-

After Isak asks Even if he’s _sure_ they should smoke when his parents are supposed to come home and Even’s assured him that it’s _fine_ , they’ll just open up the window, they’re sitting at the windowsill in Even’s room.

Isak watches as Even brings the joint to his lips and sucks on it before he lets out a cloud of white smoke.

“So, is there something else I should know about you now, besides that you got better at FIFA?” Even asks, hands the joint over to Isak.

Isak takes it, and scrunches up his eyebrows as he thinks. “Hm,” He begins, takes a drag from the joint. “I’m like, _crazy_ good at rapping now.”

Even raises his brows disbelievingly. “Really?” He asks, and he sounds like he isn’t convinced at all. He cocks a brow toward Isak. “Can I hear some, then?”

Isak huffs out a laugh. “No,” He shakes his head. “I’m not nearly high enough for that.”

Even chuckles. Isak brings the joint back to his lips, feels himself melt into the windowsill as he inhales and watches Even lean his head against the wall behind him. There’s a content expression on his face; beams of sun hitting his blue eyes and his chest rising and falling in even breaths.

Isak should look away. He doesn’t – and neither does Even.

“What about you?” Isak asks. “Is there something I should know about you?”

He passes over the joint to Even again. He takes it, puts it between his lips and frowns.

“A whole lot, probably.” Even begins. Isak frowns at that – there’s a mystery to his words, somehow. Isak’s mind is flooding with thousands of questions – why Even’s still in school, what happened with Sonja, why he stopped being friends with Isak four years ago – but he can’t bring himself to ask any of them.

“But mostly, there’s one thing, I guess.” Even continues, takes a drag from the joint.

“What’s that?” Isak asks, curious to whatever it is that Even wants to tell him.

Even licks his lips, gazes out of the window, a crease formed in between his eyebrows. He exhales.

“You should know I never wanted to hurt you, back then.” He says and Isak watches him as his Adam’s apple bobs up and down when he swallows. “I think I did. And I never wanted to.”

Isak blinks. Watches Even turn his gaze until his eyes bores into Isak’s own, feels his heart beat quicker in his chest. They feel genuine, Even’s words - but they don’t come with any explanation at all.

Isak fiddles with the hem of his shirt. “Why did you, then?” He presses because he’s desperate, almost – he just wants to _understand_.

Even pulls his bottom lip between his teeth. “It was just – complicated, I guess.”

 _Complicated_. Right.

Isak feels the urge to scream out of frustration; Even has got to give him _something_ , at least. This isn’t leading anywhere – except to a heart that’s beating a little faster than normally.

There’s an urge in Isak to ask Even what it was he had done wrong – wants to say that he’s sorry – but that would be strange, since he wouldn’t know what he’s apologizing for in the first place. Isak briefly wonders if maybe that’s what he did wrong – maybe he hurt Even and he’s too fucking thickskulled to understand what it was that he did.

“But I’m sorry, anyway.” Even continues, and now he’s looking at Isak. “I think you should know that.”

There’s genuineness laced in between his words, mixed with what Isak thinks sounds like sadness and regret.

He’s not fond of it. There’s a part of him that wants to tell Even that it’s okay – that he didn’t hurt him, that he doesn’t need to worry about that (he’d say pretty much anything to make Even happy, he thinks) – but it’s way too untrue to say, even to Isak.

Isak had desperately tried to fill the hole Even had left in his chest, but now seventeen year old Isak had been switched to thirteen year old Isak and his chest burns the same way it did when Even left him.

There’s no way Isak could tell Even he wasn’t hurt – because, _fuck_ , he was.

Isak’s mind flashes with memories of sleepless nights, staring blankly up at a white ceiling with tears trickling from his cheeks and down to his ears, thinks back to when his mind wasn’t able to focus on anything else than _Even Even Even_ and to fourteen year old him throwing his phone to the wall when he got a _happy birthday_ text from someone who he missed in a way he didn’t think was possible.

Even had hurt him – not intentionally, Isak knows Even doesn’t have a bad bone in his body – but Isak had been hurt, cracked open with a wound that wouldn’t fucking heal.

(Maybe it still hasn’t. He’s not entirely sure.)

So he doesn’t say _it’s alright_ or _you didn’t_. 

Isak swallows loudly. Even’s eyes are searching his, waiting for a response.

“Thank you.” Isak says finally, keeps his voice low. “Although I don’t think I was a very good friend to you.” He admits.

Even’s expression changes into something confused. A crease forms between his brows as he furrows them. “Why do you say that?” He asks.

Isak looks out the window, watches the red-yellow-orange leaves in the trees as they sway in the wind. “I just don’t think I was.” He shrugs.

When Even doesn’t answer for a while, Isak glances over at him. He takes one last drag from the blunt before he stubs it against the ashtray between them. It looks like he’s trying to solve an equation in his head – like he’s trying hard to understand Isak words.

Isak can’t figure out _why_ Even seems so confused.

“Of course you were a good friend.” Even starts. “I’m offended, Isak. Do you really think I’d let someone who _wasn’t_ a good friend be my best friend?” He teases, a small smile playing on his lips.

Isak smiles, mostly because he’s not sure what else to do. “I guess not.” He shrugs, like he agrees with Even.

(He doesn’t. He’s adamant on his statement about being a shit friend.)

“But, why would you – why’d you start avoiding me, then?” He asks, the million dollar question he’d wondered about for _years_ now.

“There was just – _shit_ , I don’t know, just a lot of stuff going on.” Even explains. “It was all me, though, okay? You didn’t do anything.” He tries to assure Isak.

Isak knows that’s not true – it can’t be – but he doesn’t say anything further, merely nods and takes that explanation, even though it didn’t really clear anything up.

They fall quiet.

The conversations are a little less heavy after that – they speak about music and skipping class and TV-shows and Isak rolls his eyes when Even mentions _the O.C_. Even brings up the playlist he’d made Isak and when Isak confesses he still listens to it sometimes, something flashes in Even’s eyes that he can’t quite pinpoint.

It’s so good to talk like this – to speak about things that were ever only between Isak and Even, to speak about things that don’t really matter but still _do_ in some way – to talk about things that aren’t hooking up with girls.

Each time Even laughs, Isak tries to not to think about the swelling in his chest too much – he doesn’t succeed very well. There’s something so – so _nice_ about Even’s laughter in his ears. It calms him and winds him up at the same time, somehow. Isak doesn’t understand how he’s managed four years without it.

(And maybe it’s a little bit of a reach, but he hopes he never has to again.)

Even asks about Isak’s parents, and the tension in the air is back again when Isak tells him he moved out. There’s a worrying and wondering look in Even’s eyes and Isak doesn’t like it so he decides to ease the tension by telling Even about Eskild and all that comes with him instead. It makes the worrying go away, or Isak hopes it does, anyway – Even’s done enough worrying about him for a lifetime.

They slide in to the topic of Even’s love for Baz Luhrmann – it makes Isak groan and roll his eyes but Even only grins and tells Isak he’ll get him to watch one of his movies someday, at which Isak raises his brows and tells him _no fucking way_ , but deep down he knows he’d let Even talk him into it – he’d let Even talk him into whatever, he feels like.

Then Even’s parents arrives home. Isak is a little nervous at first – but he quickly finds out he doesn’t have to be.

Even’s mom embraces him in the biggest hug she can muster and kisses his cheek and gushes about his length and his hair and Isak feels his heart squeeze in some unexplainable way. Even’s dad pats him on the shoulder, asks him about school, tells him it’s good to see him and Isak briefly understands what having a family must feel like.

Even merely stands on the side and grins during the whole scene.

Then it’s time to go home.

Isak stands in the hallway, trying not give away that he doesn’t really want to at all.

“Do you still have the same number?” Even asks while Isak is putting on his shoes.

Isak nods – maybe a little too enthusiastically.

“So I’ll text you, then – I’m planning on watching Pretty Woman tonight so expect a thorough evaluation via message later.”

Isak holds in a grin a and rolls his eyes at Even. “I swear to god, I’ll block you.”

(He’d never.)

“You wouldn’t,” Even says, like he’s reading his mind, and Isak glares at him.

“Try me.” He challenges him.

Even raises his both his brows, smiles teasingly. “Oh, I will.”

Isak walks home then, and there’s a stupid fucking smile on his face that won’t go away.

As Isak thinks about it, he realizes that maybe he doesn’t want it to.

-

Even _does_ text him about Pretty Woman. He texts him about a lot of other things too, and that’s how Isak finds himself constantly glued to his phone with a grin plastered to his lips.

They’ve been texting for four straight days – sometimes conversations about stuff they disagree on (like stupid movies or whether sushi is acceptable food or not. It’s not, _obviously_.) and sometimes it’s just endless strings of memes or GIFs that doesn’t have any meaning.

It doesn’t really matter to Isak what Even sends him – he gets the same feeling whenever Even’s name pops up on his display anyway.

Right now, it’s Sunday. Isak is sprawled on one of the couches, Eskild and Linn in the one beside him – they’re watching Paradise Hotel reruns, or something – he’s not really paying much attention to whatever is going on on the TV, busy sending texts to Even. They’re in the middle on arguing about Bigfoot, because apparently, new evidence had showed up to prove of his existence.

 **ISAK** 19:07

_this is all a bunch of crap_

_he doesn’t exist_

**EVEN** 19:08

_first of all, you shouldn’t just assume that bigfoots a dude isak_

_2nd you suck and i don’t get why you’re so sure about him not existing, you believe in aliens don’t you?_

**ISAK** 19:08

_what does me believing in aliens have anything to do with this?_

_also there’s like actual believable proof to aliens but whatever_

**EVEN** 19:09

_You’re so boring with your proof and fact and statistic stuff all the time :(_

**ISAK** 19:09

_your moms boring_

**EVEN** 19:10

_i’ll tell her you said that_

_she’ll be very disappointed in you isak_

**ISAK** 19:11

_no don’t i take it back_

_you’re the boring one_

**EVEN** 19:11

_you’re the one making your mom jokes in 2016 but I’M the boring one???_

_ok I see how it is_

**ISAK** 19:12

_whatever I have to read this stupid book now, I haven’t read one page yet and I blame you_

_you’re a horrible influence_

**EVEN** 19:13

_you?? Reading????_

_i feel like I’m in one of those parallel universes of yours_

**ISAK** 19:13

_it’s for school I didn’t chose to_

_don’t worry you’re still in this universe_

**EVEN** 19:14

_oh ok phew great_

_what book is it?_

**ISAK** 19:14

_Lord of the flies_

_i think_

_barely looked at the cover yet_

**EVEN** 19:15

_hm_

**ISAK** 19:16

_what_

**EVEN** 19:17

_I’ll read it to you_

**ISAK** 19:18

_what_

_why?_

**EVEN** 19:18

_i’ve been told I’ve got a great story-telling voice_

_also, it’s been proven that its easier to concentrate on a book if someone else reads it to you. facts_

_see it as me making it up to you_

**ISAK** 19:19

_you’re not reading lord of the flies to me_

_-_

Even comes over the next day.

Isak opens the door to kollektivet, and there he stands – smile on his face and hands in the air, gesturing to himself.

“It’s me – your personal storyteller.” Even declares.

Isak gives him a look. “You’re not serious.” He deadpans.

The idea of Even actually reading a book out loud to Isak is _ridiculous_.

Sure – Isak had tried to read yesterday before bed, and sure, he’d made it five pages in before he lost his concentration and started playing candy crush instead. But that’s only because reading is fucking _boring_ , _books_ are boring and Isak is fairly certain that just because Even reads them to him won’t make them any less lame.

Apparently, that’s where Isak and Even disagrees.

“I’m very serious, Isak.” Even says, the tone of his voice stern. “We can’t have you fail norweigan, now can we?” He raises both his brows.

Isak shoots him a look. “You think I’ll fail if you don’t get to read to me?”

Even nods. “Yes. You underestimate my skills, just wait.” He says. “You’re getting a six on this book discussion.”

-

It takes them a while to get to it. Isak shows Even around the flat which is currently empty except for Isak and Even – Eskild on some kind of university thing and Linn… actually, Isak isn’t sure _what_ Linn is doing. She might be home for all Isak knows – she doesn’t make that much noise of her.

Then Isak flings the door to his room open and walks inside with Even.

He almost feels a little self conscious about his room, which is stupid, but Even’s room is just so much more interesting than his own.

Even’s got drawings and cool posters and guitars in his bedroom and all Isak has to contribute with is a picture of a half-nude girl above his bed and a couple of empty soda bottles.

If Isak thinks about it, their bedrooms are a pretty accurate representation of their personalities; Even’s bright and full of life and Isak’s dull and uninteresting.

He doesn’t have time to dwell on that though, because soon they end up on the floor on the space between Isak’s bed and his TV, PlayStation controller in their hands.

They stay away from FIFA – Even tells Isak he can’t handle watching another one of his winner dances if he – against all odds – were to win again. Instead, they play Grand Theft Auto – which Even isn’t too good at and they give up after thirty minutes.

Then Even walks around Isak’s room to check things out, in his own words. He makes it to Isak’s bookshelf, laughs at the lava lamp there, trails his eyes over the magazines and one of Isak’s old football diplomas, then laughs at the memes on Isak’s wall – they’re outdated, apparently.

“We need to get this reading thing started.” He declares after a while.

Isak groans and throws his head back. “I thought that was just an excuse to hang out with me.” He grumbles.

Even merely chuckles as he walks around and picks up the book laying on Isak’s bedtable. He holds it in the air. “This is it?”

Isak sighs and nods, but reluctantly so.

Even gets on the bed, sits crossed leg in front of Isak and opens the book.

Isak watches him with his eyebrows raised. “You’re actually doing this?”

“I am,” Even answers without hesitation. “Shut up, lean back and listen.”

Isak looks at him in amusement, but rests his back against the wall behind him and waits for Even to begin.

When Even begins, he clears his throat in a overly exaggerated matter and it makes Isak huff out a laugh. He starts out by reading in the typical storytelling voice at first – with an exaggerated enthusiasm and way too much expressions and neither of them can keep a straight face.

But, somewhere a long the line, Even stops joking around. Isak doesn’t know when – but he finds himself hanging on to every word coming out of Even’s mouth (maybe that’s what he’s always done) and without even realizing it’s happening, he catches himself actually being _intrigued_ by the story.

It’s oddly calming, watching Even turn the pages and speak in his smooth, quiet voice. Isak keeps his eyes on him the entire time, watches him as if he’s in a trance – sees him lick his lips between words and push his hair that’s fallen in his eyes away.

Isak’s never felt more at home in his own room and he… he wants to have it like this. If he could dream of things for a little moment, if he’d let himself think about impossible scenarios, this is what would be on his mind.

-

Isak wakes up. The room has turned dark, and he’s not sitting against the wall anymore. Isak takes a deep breath and reaches for his phone on the nightstand when he feels something crinkle under his hands. He frowns, sits up and notices a little paper sheet.

_you fell asleep at page 102. Not sure if that means I’m a terrible storyteller or an amazing one. Text me and let me know._

_Ps, you drool in your sleep_

Isak feels a smile tug at the corner of his mouth and picks up his phone, immediately clicks on to the conversation with Even.

 **ISAK** 20:27

_Your storytelling is fine_

_Just a little tired today_

**EVEN** 20:30

_Okay, I’m relieved_

_How come you’re so tired you fall asleep at half past six though?_

Isak blinks at the message. Once, twice. Wants to tell him that if it wasn’t for Even, Isak probably wouldn’t have fallen asleep until three tonight – but that’s… none of his concern. Not anything Even should know about.

 **ISAK** 20:32

_your voice is tiring as fuck_

**EVEN** 20:33

_i’m hurt, I thought you said my voice was fine_

**ISAK** 20:34

_alright, it was okay_

_maybe we could do it again so you can live out these weird storytelling dreams of yours_

**EVEN** 20:34

_sounds good_

They keep texting, until Even stops replying around midnight and Isak guesses he’s fallen asleep.

Isak doesn’t sleep until three.

-

Two days later, Magnus is telling Isak, Jonas and Mahdi about his confusion about oral sex in Jonas basement.

Isak only looks at Magnus like he’s out of his mind, Jonas is arguing against him and Mahdi merely chuckling on the side.

“I don’t get it,” Magnus shakes his head. “That’s – we’re supposed to go down on girls?”

Jonas scrunches his eyebrows together. “Yes – or, I mean, why wouldn’t you?” He asks.

Magnus gives him a look. “Because, I don’t know –” He turns his head. “Mahdi, Isak, what do you think?”

Mahdi sighs loudly. “It’s kind of rude if you expect her to go down on you but not the other way around.”

Jonas nods in agreement. “Exactly.”

Isak wishes he had a opinion on the matter, wishes he could be as involved and interested as his friends in this discussion, but there isn’t one fiber in his body that could say something that would make sense here.

Magnus seems to think Isak does, however, because now his attention is turned toward him. “Isak?”

Isak looks at him, dumbfounded, racks his brain for something smart to say. When the silence start to become weird, his phone starts buzzing in his pocket and saves him from making a fool out of himself.

“Uh – sorry.” Isak mumbles and stands up hurriedly and exits the room to take the call.

Isak, too happy with being saved from the conversation, hadn’t even looked at the display before answering. Turns out, it’s a huge mistake when he hears his fathers voice on the other side of the phone.

“Isak, hi!” His dad answers, his voice surprised. Isak can’t blame him – he hadn’t taken his calls in weeks.

“Hey.” Isak replies, voice flat.

“You know, I’ve been – did you see my messages?”

Isak wants to sigh. Yes – he saw the damn messages, and he ignored every one of them, too. He only hums in response.

“Okay, good, good. So, I – have you thought about going over to your mother? I think she’d really appreciate that, Isak.”

 _Go there yourself,_ Isak thinks. _You’re the one who left her first._

He wishes his dad would understand that Isak visiting his mother isn’t as fucking simple as he’s making it out to be. Of course _he_ thinks it’s simple though – he wasn’t there for the times when Isak’s mother would break down once a week and scream and look at Isak like he was a stranger in their own home.

Or for the times where she wouldn’t look at him at all, for the times she was locked up in her room and didn’t eat or speak and worried Isak to the point where he could never sleep.

Of course it’s simple for Isak’s dad – it’s not for Isak, though. It’s so fucking hard for him.

“I don’t know, there’s a lot in school now and stuff. I’m pretty busy.” Isak lies, screws his eyes shut.

It sounds bad even to his own ears – he knows his father won’t buy it either.

“Okay, well… just, if you can find time, then call me and I’ll drive you, yeah?”

Isak swallows harshly. “Yeah. Okay.”

“Alright, great. Well, it was nice hearing from you, Isak. Answer my messages, will you?”

“Yeah, okay. Bye.”

Isak hangs up. His breathing has changed, it’s coming out a little faster and ragged and he’s clutching his phone in his hand so tightly that when he looks down, his knuckles have turned white.

Isak breathes, in and out, slowly, tries to compose himself. Hates himself for letting a simple fucking phone call upset him like this. It’s fine – his dad sucks, this shouldn’t be news to him. Still, he can’t fucking stop his hands from trembling the way they do.

Isak stays there for a while, and when he’s gotten himself under control, he walks back in to the guys. Magnus and Mahdi seems to be in a heated conversation and doesn’t even notice that Isak sits down again.

Jonas, however, does.

“Who was that?” He asks, brown eyes gazing into Isak’s own.

Isak scratches at his neck. “Just dad.”

Jonas expression changes. “Oh.” He says. “Everything alright?”

Isak nods, avoids Jonas stare. He knows it’ll be full of concern.

“Yeah, fine.” Isak is aware he’s being cold but Jonas should know by now that his family isn’t his favorite subject to speak about.

Jonas is quiet for a moment, Isak silently hoping he’ll drop the conversation. Much to Isak’s dismay, he does not.

“How’s, uh – how’s your mom doing?” He asks tentatively, searches Isak’s eyes with his own.

Isak swallows loudly. “Fine, I guess.” He shrugs. “Haven’t talked to her.”

Jonas nods. “Alright.” He trails off. “You’ll tell me if there’s anything – if you wanna talk, or whatever, right?”

Isak feels his chest tighten, and he balls his hands into fists. “Sure.”

Words hasn’t gotten any easier since he was thirteen.

-

Isak’s laying in his bed the next Friday, Narcos on the screen in front of him and the guys blowing up his phone with texts in the group chat. They’re deciding on which time is the best for grabbing kebab at Bislett, and Isak hates his friends for being able to discuss and argue over every little detail there is in life.

They decide that seven o’clock is the best time, eventually.

It’s six now, so Isak has plenty of time to lay around doing nothing until then. He’s almost on the verge of falling asleep though since he spent most of his night twisting and turning in his bed wide awake, but he makes himself stay awake, tries to focus on the episode on the television.

His phone makes a sound out of nowhere. Isak picks it up, assumes it’s the group chat again.

This time, it’s not.

 **EVEN** 18:06

_Do you have plans tonight_

**ISAK** 18:06

_Why?_

Even sends him a picture of what looks like his mothers brownies, which Isak has been having cravings for _years._

 **EVEN** 18:07

_Interested?_

**ISAK** 18:08

_uhhh if those are the brownies I think they are then yes, very_

**EVEN** 18:09

_Is that a yes to me coming over_

**ISAK** 18:10

_I mean you don’t really have to come over, you could just leave them outside the door_

_Thats fine by me_

**EVEN** 18:10

_That hurts Isak_

_If i knew you only ever wanted to be friends for my moms brownies I never would have began talking to you_

**ISAK** 18:11

_Okay whatever I guess you could come too_

**EVEN** 18:12

_How nice of you. <3_

_I’ll be there in 30_

**ISAK** 18:13

_Don’t forget the brownies_

Isak catches himself grinning throughout the whole conversation, feels his heart doing strange things in his chest. That is, until he remembers that he already has plans with his friends. Honest to god, Isak had forgotten, it’s like every sense of thinking straight is gone whenever he interacts with Even and now he’s wondering how the fuck he’s supposed to get out of this one smoothly.

Isak already knows that cancelling with Even isn’t going to happen. He tells himself it’s because of the brownies, that that is what’s got him so excited.

(It’s a stupid lie and Isak is aware. He’s not sure why he feels the need to lie to himself about the fact that he really, _really_ wants to see Even. He just does.)

Isak chews at his bottom lip, and tries to come up with somewhat a acceptable excuse to tell the boys in the group chat. He doesn’t, and so he gives up on trying to make it sound good.

**GUTTAAA**

**ISAK** 18:18

_hey sorry can’t hang out tonight_

**MAGNUS** 18:19

_whaaat_

_isak don’t bail on us i’ll start crying_

**MAHDI** 18:20

_we were gonna smoke later tho_

_and play fifa_

_the best combo_

**ISAK** 18:20

_haha_

_raincheck?_

**MAHDI** 18:21

_sure_

**MAGNUS** 18:22

_you never hang out with us man_

_am I becoming boring_

**ISAK** 18:23

_You’ve always been boring mags_

**MAGNUS** 18:23

_ouch :(_

**ISAK** 18:24

_kidding_

_i’ll see you some other day though_

Isak puts down his phone. It went better than he expected. His phone makes another sound, and this time it isn’t from the group chat.

 **JONAS** 18:25

_hey you good dude?_

_why aren’t you hanging out tonight_

Of course it’s Jonas, in a separate chat. Isak only smiles at the message, even though he doesn’t like the way Jonas is clearly concerned about him. He answers him that everything is fine, that he forgot he had plans with his dad already and Jonas sends him a thumbs up and _that’s chill._

Ten minutes later, Isak hears three sharp knocks on the front door. He’s up from his bed in a second, walks out to the hall way with quick steps but to his horror, finds that Eskild has beat him to opening the door.

Isak curses to himself before he walks up to the door.

Even stands in the doorframe, bag in hand and hoodie pulled over his head. Isak guesses it’s cold outside, because his nose and cheeks have turned a little scarlet and he’s got his scarf pulled up high.

Isak thinks he look… he looks – actually, Isak cant put his fingers on it, but the sight of him makes a smile involuntarily sneak up on his lips.

Eskild turns his head around. “Isak,” He starts. “How come you didn’t tell me we were expecting lovely company?”

Isak glares at him. “ _We’re_ not expecting company, _I_ am.” He corrects him, then looks over at Even. “Come in.”

Even obliges, steps through the door and closes it behind him.

“Are you not going to introduce us, Isak?” Eskild asks, and Isak wants to roll his eyes until they fall back into his head.

He sighs loudly. “Eskild, this is Even. Even, Eskild.” He mutters, tone as dull as he can possibly muster. Even stretches his hand out, and Eskild grabs it enthusiastically.

“Isak told me a lot about you.” Even smiles, and Isak could hit him right now.

Eskild looks over to Isak, brows raised in a surprised manner as he shakes Even’s hand. “ _Really_?” He asks, voice smug. “What’d he talk about? Me being his guru? A guiding light in the dark?”

Even chuckles, and then he nods, the fucker. “Yeah, pretty much.”

And that’s enough for the night, Isak decides. He grabs onto Even’s arm and drags him into his room, shutting the door behind them and Isak tries his best to ignore the way his hand burns from where he touched Even’s arm.

Even chuckles as he flings himself on Isak’s bed. “I like him.”

Isak stands by the door and shoots him a look. “Well, I hate the both of you.”

Even laughs once. “Always so rude.” He shakes his head. “Watch out, I might not wanna share these with you anymore.” He says, raising the plastic box with the brownies in the air and wiggling his brows towards Isak.

Isak cocks a brow toward him, then takes a couple of steps and tries to snatch it from Even’s hand. Even is quicker though, pulls his hand back and Isak grabs onto air instead.

“Give me them.” Isak whines.

Even shakes his head. “Give me one good reason.”

Isak rolls his eyes, and reaches for the brownies but Even stretches his arm away again. Isak stares at him challenging, and he leans over Even to try to get a hold of the box. This time, he actually gets his hand around it before Even can take it away, and Even brings his hand up to Isak’s waist in order to push him away from it.

It doesn’t go that smoothly, however, and Isak stumbles a little and Even’s hand slides down the tiniest bit. It stops at Isak’s hip, cold fingers suddenly presses into his skin where his shirt rode up a little bit.

Isak freezes, he doesn’t mean to, but the touch startles him and suddenly he’s gone completely still. Even doesn’t seem to miss what’s going on, either – when Isak looks at him, he’s already got his eyes on where his hand is gripping Isak’s hip. He quickly removes it, and even though it was only there for a second and Even’s fingers were cold, Isak feels his skin burns with the intensity of a thousand fires.

Even looks at him, he looks about as startled as Isak feels, and then he hands Isak the box of brownies.

He clears his throat. “Alright, you win.”

It’s a little awkward then – but just for a moment. They dig into the brownies, and they taste just as good as Isak remembers they did. Isak’s heart swells a little in his chest when Even shows him another box, filled with brownies as well, and a little note taped to it with _Isak_ and a heart written on it from Even’s mother.

They settle in to a conversation about nothing and everything after that, laying next to each other in Isak’s bed, stomach stuffed with brownies and both of them staring up at the ceiling Isak is so used to look at.

It doesn’t feel the same way to look at it now, the way it feels when he’s alone in the middle of the night.

No – it feels so much better now, with Even laughing beside him and accidently brushing his arm against Isak’s from time to time. It feels like he’s able to breath normally, like the constant weight over his chest has lifted a little.

Isak briefly wonders why that is, how Even is able to make everything feel a little easier constantly. He doesn’t dwell on it though, realizes that maybe it’s just one of the things that he’ll never get an answer to.

(Maybe _Even_ is the answer.)

Even eventually reads the rest of _Lord of the Flies_ to Isak. When they got to the end, and Even slammed the book shut, Isak had scrunched his eyebrows together and asked _this is it_? and Even had laughed and asked what he meant. He’d laughed even harder when Isak said he always imagined the book would have one of those nightmare endings, where one of the boys would wake up and it had all been a dream the entire time.

(Then again, maybe Isak’s just projecting. Maybe he’s the one hoping he’ll wake up.)

After that, they end up watching _the O.C_. Isak isn’t sure how it happens – Even has always been good at talking him into stuff – but now they’re sitting next to each other in his bed, computer in Even’s lap and eyes focused on the screen.

There are so many thoughts swirling and pounding in Isak’s head ( _I missed you I missed this I miss you_ ) and it makes concentrating on the show a little difficult. It doesn’t get any easier when Even’s leg presses into his own, Isak doesn’t even think it’s on purpose, but that doesn’t make the beating in his chest any less dramatic.

“This show still sucks, you know.” Isak says after a while, mostly because he feels he needs to say _something_.

Even’s body vibrates next to his when he chuckles. “Get over yourself.” He mumbles, still watching the screen. “I know you ship Seth and Summer.”

Isak scrunches his eyebrows together at the _ridiculous_ statement. “ _Ship_?” He echoes. “ _Really_? Oh god, you keep giving me reasons to kick you out of my house.”

“You do, though.” Even simply answers. “It’s okay, I do too. I was never really a fan of Ryan and Marissa.”

 _Me neither_ , Isak almost says. He stops himself last minute.

“You know, when I think about it, you’re a lot like Seth.” Even says then.

Isak raises both his brows, waits for Even to continue.

“You’re kinda nerdy and a little annoying, most of the time.” He starts.

Isak huffs out a laugh. “Wow, _thanks_.”

“But smart, too.” Even continues. “And very funny. And without even thinking about it, probably the most adorable person on the planet.”

Isak swallows, glances over to Even. He’s still looking at the screen, and Isak is glad he is, doesn’t think he could handle Even saying those words and looking at him at the same time. It doesn’t have to mean anything, what he said, but the words are still out there and maybe – maybe Isak wants them to mean something.

He thinks about a good answer, and it isn’t a surprise when he doesn’t come up with one.

Instead, he says “You remind me of Marissa, then.”

Even looks at him, confused. “How so?” He asks.

Isak shrugs. “I don’t know.” He says. A smug grin tugs at the corner of his mouth. “I just can’t stand her.”

Even laughs then, and shoves at Isak’s arm. “Fuck off.”

It’s quiet after that, except for the sound coming from the laptop and Even’s silent breaths next to Isak. One second, Isak’s heart is doing just fine. The next, Even rests his head on Isak’s shoulder out of nowhere, and his heart is suddenly trying to beat itself out of his chest.

Neither of them say anything, but Isak is almost positive Even can hear the sound of his heartbeat. It’s loud even to his own ears.

He’s not aware of what’s going on in the episode anymore. How could he, when the warmth of Even’s head on his shoulder is making him feel like he’s lit on fire and every brush of his hair against Isak’s cheeks is sending shivers down his spine?

“You know,” Even starts, his voice low. “I missed this a lot.”

Isak swallows. “The show?” He asks, and maybe he’s silently hoping that’s not what Even means at all.

Even hums. “I guess.” He replies. “I didn’t watch it for four years.”

Isak lets out a quiet huff of laugh. “Why not?”

He feels Even shrug lightly. “It’s not the same without you.”

Isak’s breath hitches in his throat at that, without him meaning it to. He glances at Even, who hasn’t removed his gaze from the screen in front of them. Isak hastily wishes he could say stuff like this, too. Say it without having to think about it for ages and say it without having it mean anything.

He swallows harshly before he answers. “Yeah. I missed this, too.” Isak breathes out, and it shouldn’t be so difficult to say; it’s just words, he should be able to just fucking _say_ them.

It’s not. It takes everything in Isak to be able to utter them.

Isak feels Even let out a quiet sigh. His fingers reaches out to play with the hem of Isak’s shirt. “How come you didn’t answer when I wrote to you?” He asks then.

If only Isak had a good answer.

“I don’t know.” He replies truthfully. Isak turns quiet for a while, tries to ignore the way his heart feels, hopes Even doesn’t notice it. “If I could do it differently, I would.” He admits, and even though it feels so fucking hard to say, it feels true, most of all.

Even looks up at him from where he’s laying on Isak’s shoulder. Isak wishes he could read the expression on his face.

He guesses he himself looks scared out of his fucking mind right now and he guesses Even can tell the first second he looks at him too, because that’s how it’s always been with them.

“I wish I could do things differently, too.” Even mumbles, crease forming between his eyebrows.

Isak blinks. “Like what?”

Even’s jaw clenches underneath his skin. “A lot.” He says, and then he averts his gaze towards the screen again. “Too much.”

Isak swallows, doesn’t like the way Even’s words sound. They sound like it’s something that’s making him sad, and Isak can’t stand the thought of that. Can’t stand the thought of Even being anything less than happy. Isak knows, logically, that Even is bound to be sad sometimes, that that is just the way life goes but he still wishes he wasn’t. He doesn’t think Even deserves anything else than good in his life.

“You shouldn’t think like that.” Isak says, and it’s coming out much more silent than he indented it to. “You know, there’s nothing you can do to change things that have already happened, anyway.”

(Isak should take his own advice, really.)

Even lets out a breath. “I know that.” He says. “But it’s easy to say, harder to do, you know?”

Isak knows.

“Because no matter what, I still – I’m never gonna stop thinking, you know?” Even says. “There’s no way that my brain is just gonna shut up one day, unless I die, and that’s – it freaks me out, a little bit.”

Isak stares at him.

He’s not sure what it is Even regrets, or thinks about, but he wishes he could take it away. At least, he wishes he could say something to make it better. But Isak _can’t_ and it’s making him feel both helpless and useless and like a shitty fucking friend.

(neither of the feelings are very new to him.)

“I know what you mean.” Isak answers, eventually.

And that’s the saddest thing he could ever contribute with to this conversation, probably, but it doesn’t make it any less true. Isak wants it not to be true, almost wishes he didn’t understand a word of what Even meant. But he does – his head is fucking loud and never lets him rest, either.

Even nuzzles further into Isak’s body.

-

The next day, when Isak enters the kitchen, Eskild is sitting at the kitchen table.

Isak just wants to pour his cereal and leave for his room again in peace, but of course, Eskild won’t let him.

“So,” Eskild starts when Isak is midway in pouring the milk, and Isak can already tell this is going to be one of _those_ conversations. “That Even guy was nice. Who is he?”

Isak stops in his tracks for a moment as he reaches for the cereal box but quickly gets it together. “Just someone I used to hang out with when I was a kid.” He shrugs.

And isn’t that the most downplayed description of Even Isak could ever think of. There’s nothing “just” about Even.

No – if Isak was to give a good answer to who Even is, he’d have to stay here all day, he thinks.

Even is the only thing – the only _one_ – who makes the constant weight on Isak’s shoulders feel a little less heavy. He’s complicated but so, so simple at the same time. He’s someone who’s making Isak want to stop pretending for a little while, and that fact instantly makes Even a bit intimidating, too.

Even is funny, he’s caring – probably the most caring person Isak’s ever met. He’s so stupid at times, fucking _ridiculous_ but he’s understanding and it’s so effortlessly simple to be fond of him.

(If Isak was to make it easy for himself, he’d describe Even like everything Isak isn’t. Like someone who Isak doesn’t deserve.)

“Are you good friends?” Eskild asks then, looks at Isak like he wants to ask him something else.

Isak nods. “Yeah,” he says. “We are.”

That’s what they are – nothing more, nothing less.

-

When October rolls around the corner, it’s been a little over a month since Even’s been back in Isak’s life. Some things feel a little easier, while some things are more difficult than ever; Isak still can’t seem to just fucking sleep at night, and now Even is yet another subject his mind ponders over at three am when it’s pitch black in his room and the rest of Oslo is asleep.

Most of the time, things feel easy though. Hanging out with Even after school is easy, grabbing kebab on the weekends with Even is easy, watching _the O.C_ and complaining is easy.

Then it’s difficult whenever Even smiles and his eyes crinkle up or laughs with his whole being, when he accidently brushes a part of his body against Isak’s, when he says certain things that makes Isak’s heart beat in a way that Isak is sure can’t be healthy.

Even’s presence in Isak’s life is making a difference in his mood towards other people too, it seems – Eskild has expressed his concern about Isak possible chance of doing drugs, because apparently he’s been less grumpy and smiley lately. Then Eskild had asked if the happiness had anything with Even to do, which Isak had replied to with a scoff and a roll of his eyes.

But he didn’t deny it – he didn’t need to. Isak figures it’s pretty obvious that the sudden change of mood is thanks to Even.

It’s not only been good, though – Isak’s been cancelling plans with his friends and making excuses and it’s getting harder to blame it on family gatherings constantly. He thinks Jonas is catching on to him, though; he keeps giving Isak looks with squinted and unconvinced eyes.

Isak doesn’t _mean_ to hide Even from the boys – he is just a friend after all.

Just a friend.

Maybe that’s the problem.

-

Eventually, Halloween comes. Even _Isak_ feels like a party is a must at Halloween, and so he finds himself in a ridiculous Halloween costume at a crammed house on October 29 th.  There’s a red hoodie hanging around his shoulder over his upper body and a leaf-crown spray painted gold on his head; a bad attempt at looking like Julius Caesar.

The pre-game with his friends was a little intense and Isak didn’t even feel like he was going to make it to the actual party at first, but with a couple of encouraging words from Jonas and Mahdi pouring some water into him, he made it eventually.  

Everything is a little blurry the party; from the shots he takes in the kitchen to Magnus whispering in his ear about some girls entering, to making out with Emma in a poorly lit room.

Every touch of his lips against Emma’s feels wrong, though – they never really felt _right_ but now it’s almost unbearable. When he feels Emma starting to trail kisses down his neck and proceeds further down, Isak decides that it’s enough for the night.

He backs away from Emma, tells her he’s feeling sick from all the alcohol.

(that’s what he tells himself, too.)

Isak stumbles out from the room, down the stairs and through the front door in the house. He takes a seat on the sidewalk outside, and even though the air is frigid and Isak is almost already freezing, he feels himself wind down at the lack of pounding music and people.

Isak grabs his phone from his pocket, unlocks it and his fingers touches the screen until Isak is staring at Even’s contact number.

Even, who’s supposed to be at another party tonight. Even who texted him silly costume ideas the entire week.

Even – who’s the only one Isak wants to talk to right now.

Isak hesitates a little before he presses the call button next to his name, waits impatiently until _finally_ , he picks up.

“Hello?”

Isak wants to smile the second he hears his voice.

“Hey, it’s Isak.”

Even chuckles on the other line. “Yeah, I’m aware.” He says. “What’s up?”

“What are you doing?” Isak asks, watches how his own breath comes out in white clouds in the air.

“Just watching a movie, got home early.” Even replies. “You?”

It takes Isak a while to answer, there’s a sudden nausea washing over him and he starts regretting his alcohol intake of the night. He takes a couple of deep breaths to get himself together.

“I’m just… sitting.” He answers eventually, the words coming out a little slurred.

“You’re _sitting_?” Even repeats, and Isak can hear the smile in his voice. “Where?”

“Outside.” Isak replies simply.

Even laughs once again, and it does things to Isak’s heart he wouldn’t be able to explain even if he was sober.

“Where are your friends?”

“They’re inside and I want – I don’t really want to party anymore.”

“Alright, well, are any of your friends going home?”

Isak sniffles from the cold. “I don’t think so.” He answers. “I’m not – I think I’m going to walk home now.”

Isak stands up, ready to make his way home, doesn’t think about the fact that he has no fucking clue where he is. He stumbles a little and ends up dropping his phone on the pavement, curses loudly and picks it up again.

“Shit, I dropped my phone.” He tells Even when he puts the phone against his cheek. It sounds like Even is shuffling around on the other line.

“Alright Isak, just – sit down. I’m coming.”

Isak frowns. “No, no. I’m okay.” He tries to assure Even, who doesn’t seem to buy it, for whatever reason.

“I’m sure you are.” Even mumbles. “Text me the name of street, will you?”

Isak nods, but then remembers that Even can’t see him, and hums instead.

“Okay, stay where you are.” Even says. “I’ll be there soon, yeah?”

Isak hums again, hears Even say goodbye and then the line goes dead.

He needs to think long and hard before he remembers the name of the street, then sends the text away to Even who replies with a thumbs up.

Isak buries his head in his hands – everything is spinning and he feels like he’s not even sitting on the sidewalk anymore; he feels like he’s floating in the air.

He’s not sure how long he stays like that, but soon enough he hears a car stop in front of him. Isak looks up, blinks once, twice before he gets his vision right and watches as Even climbs out of the vehicle.

He walks up to Isak, squats down in front of him.

“Hi, lightweight.” Even greets him, gives him a crooked smile when Isak catches his eyes.

Isak smiles instantly at the sound of Even’s voice. He probably looks a little tired; his eyes are only half-open and smiling is a little hard to do when he can’t feel his lips, but he tries at least.

“Hi.” He replies.

Even tilts his head and lets out a soft laugh. Isak clearly missed the joke, because he can’t figure out what’s funny.

“How are you feeling?” Even asks.

Isak feels his stomach churn the exact second Even asks him the question and only gives him a thumbs up as an answer. Even sighs, just looks at him with piercing eyes for a moment. Then, he carefully reaches out to stroke away a couple of blonde locks that’s getting in Isak’s eyes.

“Look at you,” Even mumbles, fingertips gently grazing Isak’s forehead when he puts the strands of hair away.

Isak, who was freezing just a second ago, feels like he’s on fire now. He lets out a trembling breath, and can only wish that he’s not too obvious with what Even’s touch is doing to him.

“The crown is a good look on you.” Even says then, adjusting it slightly on Isak’s skull.

Isak swallows. “You think so?” He asks, searches Even’s eyes.

Even nods once. “Caesar’s got nothing on you.” He grins.

Isak laughs lightly at that, then briefly wonders if he should give Even a compliment, too. He could give him thousands of them – but mostly what he’s thinking about right now, when Even’s got a plaid shirt on and his blonde hair is styled but not too much and his blue eyes are fucking _sparkling_ in the dark night, is how _beautiful_ he looks.

Even is so beautiful.

Another shot of tequila and Isak might have said it.

He doesn’t, though. Just says smiles and says “Thanks.”

Even flashes him a tiny smile. “Alright,” He says, moves to stand up. “Let’s get you home.” He stretches out a hand for Isak to grab onto, now towering over him where he stands.

Isak takes a hold of the hand, stumbles a little when he gets up and flashes Even a smile as to show him that he’s okay.

The ride home is quiet, Isak is almost dozing off in the passenger seat but he’s still aware of the glances Even keeps giving him from time to time.

It would be so simple now, for Isak to just reach out and intertwine his fingers with the ones resting in Even’s lap. He wants to so badly, has to use all of the little amount of power he’s got in his body at the moment to keep himself from doing it.

(Also, there’s the inevitable fact that stops Isak the most; Even probably doesn’t want him to.)

All of a sudden, the urge of reaching out for Even is replaced with something else.

“Even,” Isak breathes out, panic and bile rising in his throat. “Stop the car.”

Even looks at Isak, panic in his eyes as he hits the breaks in the car and one second later Isak is standing on the side of the road, emptying the content of his stomach there.

Even is by his side the next second, Isak isn’t sure why – it’s not like he’s got hair that needs to be held away. Even is there anyway, a hand on his back as Isak keeps heaving on to the grass.

“I got you.” He says, and Isak thinks, _you have me_.

-

They make it to kollektivet, eventually. Even helps Isak up the stairs, and then they walk inside.

Isak enters the shower immediately and when he comes out, there’s a glass filled with water on his bedtable and a bucket next to his bed. Even is standing in front of it, looking at his phone.

“Feel better?” He asks when Isak enters the bedroom.

Isak nods.

“Good.” Even says, then shoves the phone in his pocket and looks around the room a little awkwardly. “Well, I… You think you’ll make it on your own now?”

And the answer to that should be simple – it is, too. _Yes_ , Isak thinks he’ll be able to chug the glass of water and go to sleep on his own.

But maybe he doesn’t want to. Maybe he doesn’t want to be alone – even though he’s pretty good at that, by now. Maybe he doesn’t want Even to go.

Isak imagines another universe for a second, one where he’d ask Even to stay with him. One where Even would want to.

He’s not in another universe, though. No, he’s right here and Even is going home. It’s one of the things Isak thinks won’t ever change.

It goes against what his body is feeling, but eventually Isak nods to answer Even’s question.

“Okay.” Even replies and then he takes one, two, three steps forward and just when Isak thinks he’s going to walk past him, Even stops in his tracks.

His gaze softens, but it’s still so intense, staring into Isak’s eyes. Even smiles softly, and then, before Isak can register what’s happening, Even reaches out and gently strokes at Isak’s cheekbone with the pad of his thumb.

Isak’s breath gets stuck in his throat, and he almost shudders when Even’s finger carefully caresses the skin on his cheek.

“Alright,” Even smiles. “Good night, Isak.”

The next moment, he’s gone.

Isak stays, lips parted and heart pounding.

-

The next time they meet, it’s a week after Halloween. There’s a knock on the door to the flat, and when Isak opens it he finds Even there, smile on his face and grocery bag in hand.

“We’re making dinner!” He declares cheerfully.

Isak frowns in confusion, but takes a step back when Even walks inside with determined steps.

Isak would have imagined things would be a little weird from the last time they saw each other, (Isak is almost positive he could still feel the heat from Even’s hand on his skin) but of course, it’s not to Even.

Nothing ever seems to be, to him. Isak wishes he could be like that, too – wishes he could touch Even’s cheek without making it a bigger deal than it is.

Because it’s not a big deal, right? Even’s always been like this – not afraid of body contact or saying what’s on his mind. It doesn’t have to mean anything – it _doesn’t_ mean anything – and Isak is aware of that.

So why Isak’s heart picks up its speed every time Even touches him or looks at him for longer than a second doesn’t make any sense.

God, the things he’d do to be like Even – to be like nothing ever bothers him and like he doesn’t have a million questions tugging at his mind constantly. The things Isak would do to just catch a break from himself and his god forsaken head for a little while. The things he’d to be someone else – someone who’s isn’t as fucked up as himself.

“I can’t cook.” Isak deadpans, stares at Even as he unpacks the groceries onto the kitchen counter.

Even looks at him and grins. “I’m very aware of that.” He answers. “I’ve seen the frozen pizzas in your fridge, Isak.”

Isak has to roll his eyes at him. “So what’s your plan, then?”

“My _plan_ ,” Even starts. “Is to cook us a nice dinner this lovely Saturday evening.” He says, starts rummaging around in the kitchen to find what he’s looking for. Isak can only stare at him.

Even looks up at him as he takes out a pan from one of the cupboards. “I couldn’t stand the thought of you heating up a pizza for dinner on a _Saturday_.” He says then.

It’s one of those things that Even just _says_ , the words doesn’t have any real meaning behind them. Isak knows that. He _knows_.

His heart still flutters in his chest.

-

After they’ve eaten the chicken pasta Even had cooked, after Isak had stood beside him feeling useless, they don’t move from the kitchen table.

“That was really nice of you.” Isak says, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “I’m almost thinking you put poison in there, or something. You’re never nice.” He snickers.

He hopes that Even understands that he’s merely joking. He hopes Even knows he’s the nicest person there is. It would be a shame, otherwise, Isak thinks. Even not seeing himself the way he deserves to.

Even only laughs at his words. “What good would I get from poisoning you?” He asks, brows raised.

Isak shrugs carelessly. “You’re threatened by my FIFA powers, or whatever. Want to eliminate me so you can take over the world without me standing in your way.” He nonchalantly says.

Even huffs out a laugh and gives him a look. “Right. You got me.” He says, holds his hands up like he’s been caught. “You beat me in FIFA once and now I want to kill you, that’s exactly what this is.”

Isak grins. “Why else would you be this nice to me?” He asks, both eyebrows raised.

Something changes in Even’s expression then. He glances down at the table for a second, before he looks up at Isak again. His Adam’s apple bobs up and down in his throat as he swallows.

He smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “You’re the most important person in my life.” He says. “Can’t I be nice to you just because I want to?”

His words changes the tension in the room, and Isak changes with it. He’s fairly certain he isn’t breathing still.

Isak looks at Even then; really looks at him. He looks sincere and he’s got his eyebrows slightly pulled together. Isak thinks he can spot something that looks a lot like sadness pooling in his irises.  

Isak wishes Even wouldn’t say things like that. Words like that doesn’t make anything any easier for him, they’re making it _so_ much more difficult. Isak remembers feeling like this when he was thirteen, too. Remembers hope in his heart every time Even would say something like this. Remembers how the hope disappeared when Even did.

Remembers how much the words hurt, even though there wasn’t ever any intention for them to do so.

And Isak can’t take it anymore, not now. It’s almost unbearable now.

He swallows once, twice before he speaks. “Why do you say that?” Isak asks, and his voice comes out barely above a whisper.

Even blinks, a small crease forms between his eyebrows. He doesn’t say anything for a moment. “Because it’s true.” It sounds like a question more than an answer.

 _It’s not,_ Isak thinks. _It’s not._

Isak licks his lips. “You don’t mean that.” He shakes his head, averts his gaze to his plate on the table.

It takes a while before Even speaks again. “ _Isak_ ,” He starts, and he speaks with so much intensity Isak has to glance up at him. “I do.”

Isak stares at him. His mind is completely quiet and yet screaming at him at the same time. His hands are clutching the napkin on the table. He blinks. He wants to believe Even.

(he doesn’t.)

“Okay.” He breathes out, anyway.

-

Later, they’re seated on the couch. Even fell asleep somewhere around the middle of the movie, and now his head is resting on Isak’s shoulder and Isak feels like he’s suffocating. He hasn’t been looking at the movie for a while now; gaze focused on Even with his eyes closed as he breathes slowly through his nose, chest rising up and down steadily. He looks so peaceful like this, Isak thinks.

(most of all, Isak thinks he looks beautiful, but that’s a little harder to admit.)

Isak swallows, and before he can understand what it is that he’s doing, he reaches out to brush his knuckle against Even’s cheek. He continues to trace at Even’s eyebrow, then strokes a couple of strands of hair out from his forehead.

Isak is almost afraid the beating in his chest is going to wake him up.

Even doesn’t move.

Isak’s heart aches as he looks at him. There’s a voice screaming something at him in the back of his head and for a second he almost forgets that he shouldn’t want this, that he’s not _supposed_ to want this. He let’s himself have this moment though, just this one time. He removes his hands from Even’s jaw, but doesn’t stop looking at him. He looks at him until the image of Even sleeping is burned into his memory.

 _In another universe_ , Isak thinks. _Maybe there_.

-

Next weekend, he gets a text from Even at nine on Friday night.

 **EVEN** 21:01

_hey_

_how do you feel about swimming_

**ISAK** 21:02

_now? in November?_

_i’m feeling no_

**EVEN** 21:03

_like, in a pool, inside_

_idiot_

**ISAK** 21:03

_what are you on_

_you don’t even have a pool_

**EVEN** 21:04

_my aunt does and we’re going_

_i’ll be at your place in 20 minutes b there or b square_

-

Turns out that Even isn’t joking. Twenty minutes later, he’s standing with his bike outside the apartment complex, ignoring both the fact that Isak doesn’t have his own bike and that it’s fucking _November_.

Even only smiles when Isak mentions this, and then they’re on their way. Isak isn’t surprised that Even talked him into it.

When they reach their destination – Even’s aunt’s house apparently – Isak expects Even to knock on a door, like any regular person would. He doesn’t. It’s Even, so _of course_ he doesn’t. Instead, he starts opening up a tiny window and Isak watches him with raised brows as he does.

When he asks him about this, the only answer he gets from Even is that his aunt is on vacation.

It’s not a very good answer – but Isak doesn’t have the time to dwell on it for very long before Even is pushing him into the water inside the house, both of them completely dressed.

“What the _hell_ is your problem?” Isak exclaims the second they’re both above the surface again.

Even laughs so loudly it echoes through the room. “You would’ve never gotten in here on your own.” He grins. “You know that.”

Isak gapes at him, offended. “I totally would’ve!” He protests. “And I would have done it in a cool way, too. Like, a backflip or something.”

Even pushes his wet hair out from his eyes, looks at Isak disbelievingly. “Right.” He says, a little out of breath.

Isak quirks a brow toward him in a challenging matter. “I would’ve!”

Even looks at him with pure amusement in his eyes. “Show me then.”

Isak scoffs, but a second later he’s standing at the edge of the pool. Even is looking at him with a look saying “go on” and so Isak does.

Now, he can’t exactly see himself, but from the way Even is laughing when Isak’s head is over the water again, he guesses it didn’t go that well.

“You’re unbelievable.” Even wheezes. “That was -” He cuts himself off and gives Isak an applause instead.

Isak rolls his eyes. “Whatever.” He mutters, tries to hold back a grin.

A string of challenges start after that, and Isak finds out Even is horrible at doing back flips into water but a fast fucking swimmer. They’re acting like ten year olds, and Isak is aware, but there isn’t a part of him that cares. He’s laughing and so is Even and even though it’s a weird fucking situation he’s finding himself in and he’s swallowed half the water in the pool, everything feels so right, like it always does whenever Even’s near.

Even is the one to come up with the next challenge.

“ _Holding my breath_?” Isak repeats his words, huffs out a laugh. “I’m the _master_ of holding my breath.”

“Yeah, I bet you are.” Even says, a teasing smile on his lips, like he doesn’t believe him.

Isak starts first, squeezes his eyes together and sinks under the surface. It goes well – for about two seconds. Then, it feels like his lungs are exploding and he has no other choice than to press his feet against the tiled floor, push up and go up for air again.

Even’s laughing at him when he comes up – of course he is.

“ _Wow_.” Even says in between his laughs. “I’m like, super impressed, Isak.”

Isak spits out water from his mouth. Even looks so happy when he laughs, all crinkly eyes and white teeth that Isak can’t help but laugh, too.

“I got water in my lungs.” He says then, out of breath. It’s a shit excuse, and it makes more laughter bubble up from both of them.

Even rolls his eyes then and splashes a little water at Isak’s face, making Isak scrunch up his brows lean backwards from it until his back hits the tiled edge of the pool.

“Alright,” Even starts. “My turn.”

Isak blinks and then Even is below the surface. Isak leans back against the tiles, and after ten seconds he’s already impressed with Even’s lung capacity. He barely made it four seconds before his own had had it.

Even swims around under the water for what feels like ages, and Isak huffs out a laugh when he starts doing tricks under the surface, rolls around and twirls in the pool.

Just when Isak starts suspecting that Even’s got gills, because he’s been down there for so long, Even swims over to where Isak is standing, at with a splash he reoccurs above the surface again, right in front of Isak. He’s breathing aggressively, completely out of breath but still manages to grin widely.

Isak’s brows raises on their own accord. “I’m beginning to think you were a fish in your previous life.”

Even chuckles breathlessly. “Yeah?” He asks, and drags his hands through the wet hair that’s plastered to his forehead. “You impressed?”

It’s then that Isak realizes the lack of distance between him and Even. When it occurs to him, he’s almost instantly out of breath too, like he’s the one who’s been under the surface.

Isak looks straight into Even’s eyes now – they’re the same color as the pool and they’re so intense and bright and Isak can’t breathe now, not at all. He’s forgotten all about Even asking him a question, because how is he supposed to focus on that when Even is looking at him like this?

There’s countless tiny droplets of water all over his face, his mouth is half open and the blue eyes staring into Isak’s green ones are so intense but Isak can’t find himself to look away from them. It feels physically impossible to tear his gaze away, when Even is looking like this. When he’s looking so beautiful.

Isak might be imagining it, he can’t really be sure of anything right now, but he thinks Even steps a little closer to him. He thinks he can feel Even’s exhales against his face, thinks he can see Even throat bob as he swallows, once, twice.

“ _Isak_ ,” He breathes out, his voice so soft but it has so much intensity behind it, Isak wants to shudder at the sound of it. Like Isak’s name falling from Even’s lips wasn’t enough when he _wasn’t_ staring at him a couple of inches away with blazing eyes.

There’s a hand cupping his face then – Isak knows he isn’t imagining it, because he can feel the coldness of it on his cheek. It doesn’t make him cold, though – no, it makes his skin heat up, makes shivers run down his spine and his breath hitch. It scares him, makes him _terrified_ but he doesn’t want to move. He wants to stay right here.

The rest goes like this:

A thumb grazing his cheek, a hand curled around his jaw, a head leaning closer to Isak’s. A heart trying to beat out of his chest, eyes falling down to lips so close to him but so fucking far away at the same time. Even licking his lips, Isak’s legs wanting to give out under him. Even leaning an inch closer, breath clashing with Isak’s, and then –

A girl yelling for her mother –

Two heads whipping around to watch where the screaming comes from –

Isak and Even, looking at each other for a brief second of panic before they rush out of the pool –

Long legs trying to wiggle out from a window –

Even getting on the bike, Isak behind him –

Hands that trembles furiously, a heart beating ten miles a minute.

Isak, not being able to fucking breathe.

 


	3. three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!! It’s been quite some time, hasn’t it? I’ve kind of had writers block and like… zero inspiration BUT here I am now with, once again, 21k words. I can’t exactly say that I’m very satisfied with this chapter but there’s finally an ending to the slow burn, at least. And no cliffhanger this time, can you believe it? anyway. I hope you enjoy this, let me know if you hated it or if you loved it or whatever you thought.  
> <3  
> (also, im thinking of adding an extra chapter to this, but I’ll have to think about it. lol.)

Breathing, as it turns out, doesn’t get any easier.

It doesn’t get any easier when Isak is seated behind Even on the bike, both of them drenched from head to toe and freezing in frigid November air. Cold wind slaps against Isak’s cheeks when Even pedals hurriedly through the night, and it should be making Isak’s skin freezing. It’s not cold though, no; his face is burning fire-hot.

Breathing doesn’t get easier when Even eventually stops in front of Isak’s apartment complex and both of them are looking at each other like they’re waiting for the other one to speak. Even is the one who starts, eventually.

“That wasn’t my aunt’s house.” He admits, and despite the nerves and trembling in Isak’s body, he has to laugh at that.

“Yeah,” Isak breathes out. “I kind of suspected that.”

Even cracks a smile then, before he averts his gaze down to his feet.

It’s impossible for Isak to ignore the hopefulness in his heart and anticipation in his veins. The thought of _maybe, maybe, maybe_ circles around in his head and this time he allows the thoughts to be there, don't push them far away like he’s so used to doing. He continues to blankly stare at Even, feels his heart pick up when neither of them speaks and it feels like the silence is going to eat him alive if no one talks soon.

Isak waits for Even to say something. He can’t find it in him to do it himself. No, it’s up to Even now, Isak thinks. Whatever is going to happen.

Even’s eyes are still glued to the ground. Isak’s chest feels like it’s going to explode.

Then, _finally_ , Even glances up at him. Isak doesn’t think he’s ever seen him like this, all nervous eyes and fidgeting hands. It almost makes him look shy. “Well,” Even starts out, Isak watching as his hands clench around the handlebars of his bike, heart is in his throat as he waits for him to continue. “I’ll let you go upstairs.” He says.

Something washes over Isak. Disappointment, he thinks. That’s what it feels like. He has no right to feel this way, he’s aware. It’s not like – like Even _promised_ him anything.

Still. It’s there.

“Can’t have you catch a cold because of me.” Even says then and smiles weakly.

Isak tries to smile back. He’s fairly certain that his attempt to conceal the disappointment rushing through his body isn’t that successful. He licks his lips and nods slowly. “Okay.”

“Okay.” Even echoes through an exhale, jaw clenching underneath his skin. Isak thinks it seems like there is something on his mind, but he doesn’t ask questions about it. He simply smiles half-heartedly, says goodbye and proceeds to walk inside. The legs beneath him never felt so heavy.

-

Breathing doesn’t get any easier when Isak lays in bed, showered and not shivering from the cold anymore. The thoughts swirling in his mind are loud and won’t let him rest. There are so many questions he wants to ask, words he wants to say, things he doesn’t understand. He wants to understand, so badly. Doesn’t think he’s ever wanted to more than now.

One of the things Isak can’t figure out is that he’s laying in the warmth and safety of his own bed but it feels nowhere as good as it should feel. Something feels wrong, somehow; his bed feels cold and empty and not like it should be at all.

Maybe he knows why that is, if he thinks about it. Maybe it’s not hard to understand at all.

Isak still struggles to breathe normally when he clutches at his duvet and stares up at the ceiling above him. He wishes he wasn’t able to develop hope and stupid expectations.

(most of all, he wishes Even was next to him.)

-

He can’t help but be surprised when Even texts him the following day. Not that the message contains anything of meaning – just a link to a documentary about whales that he insists Isak should watch – but still. The moment yesterday had been strange, and if the uncertainty and nervousness in Even’s eyes were anything to go by, it had been to Even as well.

Isak doesn’t have time to type out anything else than a quick reply before the door to his bedroom is flung open and Eskild comes barging in and throws himself on Isak’s bed. Isak glares at the uninvited guest for a while but gives up when Eskild keeps ignoring him.

“What were you up to last night?” Eskild asks then, laying on his stomach with eyes glued to the phone in his hands on the bed.

“I was just with Even.” Isak shrugs. Again with the nonchalance.

Eskild glances over at him quickly. “Oh.” He says. “What did you two do?”

Isak’s mind flashes with memories from yesterday; Even a couple of inches away from him, Even’s breath against his lips, Even’s hand pressed to his cheek.

He swallows harshly. “Just hung out.”                           

Eskild hums next to him. “You’ve been spending a lot of time together.” He states.

Isak looks over at him hesitantly. There’s a part of him that’s worried. Worried that it’s obvious by now – that Eskild can tell just by looking at him. It’s stupid, and he’s aware. Eskild out of all people would understand, Isak knows that. But still, it’s – _fuck_ , some things feel impossible to talk about. Isak feels like he’ll never be able to, either.

Maybe he doesn’t need to talk about it though. Maybe Eskild already knows, without Isak uttering a word. Maybe Eskild knew before Isak knew it himself. That’s a terrifying thought if he ever had one.

“Yeah, I guess.” Isak mumbles as a reply.

Eskild turns to look at him from where he’s laying beside him. “We’re having a little get together here next weekend.” He starts. Isak wants to protest already, roll his eyes or do anything to show that he’s not fond of that idea. He stops himself. This is Eskild’s place, first and foremost, and Isak figures that maybe he shouldn’t do as much complaining as he feels like doing. “You could invite Even, or you know, any of your friends. That one guy, what’s his name? Mahdi, is that it? Him. Definitely invite him.”

Isak scrunches his brows together at that, but decides not to comment on Eskild’s apparent crush on Mahdi and simply nods as an answer.

At first, Isak debates on whether he should invite the boys or invite Even. It’s stupid, but there’s a part of him that isn’t sure if he’s ready for them to meet yet. Hell, Isak hadn’t even told anyone that he was hanging out with Even again so it would be a little sudden, wouldn’t it? To let them meet at a party and say, _hey, by the way, this is Even who has been my best friend since I was seven_ _but then he moved and now he’s back and I have no idea what we are anymore._

He decides, after a while, that he’s being stupid. He’s done enough of hiding Even from his friends, and he’s beginning to think he’s making things more difficult than they have to be. He can invite all of them. It’ll be fine.

**GUTTAAA**

**ISAK** 14:34

_party at my place on saturday if anyones interested_

_eskilds idea not mine_

**MAGNUS** 14:37

_shit can’t saturday_

_really wanted to party w eXild </3_

_tell him im sorry_

**MAHDI** 14:38

_me neither i’m not home_

_bet he’ll cancel the party now that his fav cant come_

_how does that feel magnus?_

**JONAS** 14:39

_i’ll be there dude_

_if you get the beer_

**MAGNUS** 14:39

_uhh that’s not true_

_i’m his fav_

_right isak?_

**ISAK** 14:40

_aight beer is on me jonas_

_and yes it’s true magnus deal with it_

Isak presses on his conversation with Even after that. Before he can change his mind, he types out a text and presses send.

**ISAK**

_Do you wanna come to a party on Saturday?_

**EVEN**

_hmm_

_will there be a clown?_

**ISAK**

_no_

**EVEN**

_a magician?? Pulling rabbits from a hat??_

**ISAK**

_NO_

**EVEN**

_not sure if I wanna come then_

**ISAK**

_you’re impossible_

**EVEN**

_kidding, of course I’ll be there_

**ISAK**

_alright great, see u at 8_

_bring a friend if you want to, Eskild said he wanted to fill this place up_

**EVEN**

_yes sir_

_-_

**ISAK** 17:18

_still on for the party at my place tomorrow??_

**JONAS** 17:20

_you bet dude_

_you got the beer right_

**ISAK** 17:21

_Yeah_

_Even got it for me, actually_

_So he’ll be there tomorrow_

**JONAS** 17:23

_Really?_

_So are you guys hanging out again or did you randomly ask him for beer_

**ISAK** 17:25

_lol_

_yeah we’ve been hanging out for a while_

**JONAS** 17:26

_Alright chill_

_that’s good to hear_

_Can’t wait to meet the mysterious childhood friend_

**ISAK** 17:28

_I think u might get along_

_Hipsters both of u :p_

**JONAS** 17:30

_Haha very funny_

_We might bond over the curse of having u as our friend tho_

**ISAK** 17:31

[middle finger emoji]

_-_

The party turns out to be okay, to Isak’s surprise. The flat started filling up with guests around eight and now, an hour later, there’s people and bottles scattered across the entire apartment. Isak and Jonas has ended up in one of the couches, some guys who Jonas skates with is apparently friends of Eskild’s as well and now they’ve ended up in a heated discussion on something skate related that Isak has nothing to contribute in with. It doesn’t really matter, anyway – Isak doesn’t think he can focus on anything else than a certain someone who’s supposed to walk in through the door any moment now. It’s probably not healthy to be as eager as he is for another human beings presence, Isak guesses, but despite that he can’t seem to stop himself. And so he waits, sips from the beer in his hand and taps foot against the floor impatiently.

And then – after half an hour of glaring so forcefully at the door Isak is beginning to think his stare might burn holes in it – the door opens up.

And there he is. Why Even is wearing a denim jacket in November is beyond Isak, but he could never find it in him to complain, not when Even is looking so good it almost hurts. Isak feels his heart pick up its pace just by looking at him and he thinks he can feel the corners of his mouth involuntary starting to twitch upwards.

He’s just about to get up to greet him, but then he abruptly halts in his movements. His body, flaming hot just a second ago, freezes when he sees who walks in behind Even. There’s an odd sensation in his chest all of a sudden. It feels a lot like his heart dropping to the ground.

It’s been a while since Isak’s seen her and her hair is noticeably shorter, but there’s no denying who it is; Sonja is smiling, she says something that makes Even turn around and let out a laugh that Isak can hear all the way from where he’s sitting.

Isak looks down at his hands, notices the way he’s gripping the bottle in his hands so tightly he feels like it might shatter if he doesn’t stop – much like what’s happening to his heart at the moment. The feeling slowly filling Isak’s body up isn’t a foreign one – he feels _stupid_. So fucking stupid. He keeps his gaze on his hands and repeats the word to himself and doesn’t notice the person suddenly standing in front of him until he speaks.

“Hi, Isak.”

Isak flickers his eyes up – pretends that Even doesn’t look even more breathtaking tonight this close up – and meets blue eyes.

He swallows. “Hey.”

Even turns to look at Sonja standing beside him. He licks his lips. “Uh, this is – you remember Sonja, right?”

Isak nods tightly. How could he ever forget about her? The girl that fits Even _so_ perfectly. A girl so stunning with a nice laugh and warm eyes who fits Even so perfectly.

He forces a smile on his lips. “Right. Good to see you.” He says, even though it’s not. Not really.

“You, too. It’s been a while.” She smiles, and it doesn’t look fake or forced. Sonja both looks and sounds genuine, and then she laughs softly and Isak understands. Understands that he won’t be – that he’s _not_ – that Sonja is just _right_. She’s right for Even and she’s someone who Even deserves to be with. Isak feels stupid, even if it was just for a split second, for thinking something else.

“Yeah, it has,” Isak says and briefly glances over to Even. There’s a look in his eyes that Isak can’t figure out. “Well, I’m – I need to get another beer, so.” He awkwardly excuses himself, flashes a quick smile and stands up. He stumbles a little over himself when he leaves and pretends he doesn’t notice the puzzled expression on Even’s face as he does.

The kitchen is thankfully empty and before Isak opens the fridge to pull out a bottle he presses his forehead against the door and squeezes his eyes shut. There are thousands of thoughts spinning furiously in his head, but most of them are regarding how fucking stupid he is for letting himself get hopes up, only for them to be slam-dunked down a minute later. It’s no ones fault but his own, he knows that. It doesn’t make the aching in his chest hurt any less.

“Isak?”

Isak hurriedly opens his eyes and distances himself from the fridge to find Eskild in the doorway. He looks confused which he has all the right to, honestly – the sight of Isak leaning against the fridge probably isn’t what he was expecting when he entered the kitchen.

Isak opens the door to the fridge and grabs another beer bottle and pretends he doesn’t notice Eskilds piercing stare from across the room.

“Everything alright?” He asks as Isak walks over to the counter to get the cap of the bottle.

Isak nods. “Fine.” He answers, hopes that Eskild can’t see the way his hands shake when he brings the bottle to his lips.

Eskild walks over to the counter and places a couple of empty cups and bottles on to it, still staring at Isak as he does. He clears his throat then. “So Even came.”

Isak swallows and merely hums as an answer. He’d prefer not to talk or think about the tall blonde in his living room for the rest of the night. Which is impossible, probably, but still worth a try.

Eskild scratches at his neck. “Who – who’s that girl he brought with him?” He asks cautiously, eyes searching Isak’s. Isak can feel himself automatically clasp the bottle in his hands harder. He chews on the inside of his cheek.

Even though it’s not an answer that will make any sense to Eskild, he still replies “Sonja.”

The name tastes bitter on his tongue, and he’s pretty sure it sounds just as bitter when he says it too.

Eskild hums. There’s a small crease between his brows. “How do you feel about that?”

 _Pathetic_ , for some reason, is the first word that comes to mind. 

Isak shrugs. “He can bring whoever he wants.” He mumbles, takes another swig of the beer.

“Of course,” Eskild says simply. “But are you -”

“It’s _fine_ , Eskild.” Isak snaps and pushes himself off of the counter before he’s faced with any more questions. He doesn’t mean to be cold towards Eskild, but he can’t take more questions or careful looks, even though he’s aware that he only means well.

Before Isak has time to wonder what he’s going to occupy himself with now Jonas is by his side, joint in hand.

“Want to light up?” He asks.

It’s an offer Isak can’t turn down.

The balcony turns out to be crammed with people already so they settle for Isak’s room. The window is cracked open and cold November air is slowly filling the room. It feels better in here, nonetheless. Fewer people and less noise.

“I talked to Even a little.” Jonas says and brings the joint to his lips. Isak shifts on his feet. Wherever direction he thought this conversation was going, this wasn’t it. He was hoping Jonas would be a safe person to not mention Even. He was wrong, apparently.

Isak simply nods and takes the joint when Jonas offers it to him.

“He seems chill.” Jonas says then.

Isak swallows. “He is.” He says, places the blunt between his lips and inhales.

“It’s cool that you guys, like, found each other again.”

“Yeah,” Isak replies. He’s not sure what else to say.

Jonas looks at him warily as Isak passes over the joint again. “’Cause you were pretty upset after he moved and all.”

Isak blinks. Upset feels like such a light word to describe what he felt. Not that he ever let Jonas know how much it shattered him when Even left, but he also figures he wasn’t very good at concealing the sadness looming over him whenever they hung out. Isak guesses he probably wasn’t the most entertaining person to be around for a while, he couldn’t find it in him to pretend to be okay or that there wasn’t a constant dark cloud hanging over his head. Jonas had noticed obviously, even if Isak didn’t want him to.

“Yeah, it was pretty shit.” Isak mumbles and looks out from the window. Cars pass by and a couple drunk idiots stumble around and shout on the street.

“You know I, uh – I always felt like I wasn’t a very good friend to you then. Like, we never talked about it, or anything.” Jonas confesses.

Isak looks at him. _Jonas_ thinking he wasn’t a good friend? Isak frowns. He was the one who shut himself out, and now he can’t help but feel even shittier when it made Jonas think he was a bad friend. He wasn’t, not in any way. Isak remembers his constant careful questions asking if he was alright, remembers him letting Isak crash at his place without asking questions when his mother acted up.

Isak shakes his head. “No, that’s not – you _were._ ” He assures. “It’s not like I wanted to talk about it. You were a good friend. The _best_ friend.” Isak says and cracks a smile.

Jonas chuckles. “Alright.” He grins. “I feel like I might have competition now though.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Isak says dismissively. “You’ll win.”

Because even though Even is his best friend, he’s something more than that too, something else. Jonas, however, will always be his best friend.

(even if there was a time where Isak _did_ wish he was something more than that. That time and those feelings have been gone for quite some time now, although maybe not as long ago as Isak would have wished they were; the memory of his blood rushing a little faster through his veins every time Jonas would accidentally touch him is still fresh in his mind.)

Jonas doesn’t have time to answer before the door swings open. Both of them turn their heads around and Isak’s breath gets stuck in his throat when he finds Even in the doorway.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.” Even says quickly, eyes darting from Jonas to Isak.

Jonas exhales grey smoke and smiles politely. “It’s cool.”

Even nods, flashes him a small smile before he averts his gaze to Isak. He licks his lips once. “Isak, can I talk to you for a second?”

Isak swallows. He wants to talk to him, doesn’t think there’s ever a time where he doesn’t want to, but if they talk right now he feels like he’s going to say something he’ll end up regretting and he won’t let the bitterness in him get the best of him right now.

“Can it wait?” Isak says and the words come out a lot harsher than he intends for them to. He regrets it as soon as he hears them.

Something flashes in Even’s expression and he’s still for a moment before he nods. “Yeah, sure.” He says, and Isak turns his gaze away from him when the disappointment on Even’s face gets too much. When he hears the door click shut, his eyes shut with it. Jonas clears his throat in front of him.

“What was that about?” He asks.

Isak sighs. He shakes his head. “I’m not sure.”

-

For the rest of the night, Isak does his very best to avoid Even. He and Jonas stay in his room a long time after they’ve finished the joint, talking about nothing important at all but it still keeps his mind of Even for a little while. When they make it out from Isak’s room again, the first thing Isak’s gaze find is Even and Sonja sitting on the couch. He has to look away as soon as he sees them.

Instead, he walks into the kitchen and ends up sitting on the counter, watching while Jonas and Eskild indulge in a beer-chugging contest. Soon enough, Eskild announces that it’s time to move on to the next party, or club, or whatever – Isak isn’t really listening, already decided that he’s going nowhere but his own bed tonight.

“Sure you’re not coming?” Eskild asks. “You really don’t wanna miss out on me when I had a couple of tequila shots.” He says smugly, wiggling his eyebrows towards Isak.

Isak chuckles. “I’ll pass.” He says. Then he clears his throat. “And, uh… I’m sorry if I was rude earlier.”

Eskild smiles. He raises his hand to ruffle at Isak’s hair. “It’s all good, my little godchild.”

Isak rolls his eyes, but can’t help the smile that forces its way onto his lips. With that, Eskild along with everyone else in the flat starts making their way out until all that is left is Isak and a quiet, messy apartment. He sighs when his gaze travels around the kitchen from where he’s sitting on the counter. There are bottles and cups and spilled beer surrounding him and he figures he needs to start tidying it up now if he doesn’t want to stay up the entire night.

Just when Isak is about to hop down the counter, another person enters the kitchen and he stills were he sits, heart jumping to his throat.

Even stands in the doorway, blue eyes focused on Isak. Neither of them speaks and neither of them averts their gazes away.

Isak swallows. “Didn’t you leave with the others?”

Even takes a couple of steps forward. He shakes his head. “No,” He says. “I told you I wanted to talk to you.”

Isak nods, his heart already pounding in his chest. It feels too intimate, somehow, talking to Even like this. The flat is so quiet it feels suffocating, almost.

“Where’s Sonja?” Isak blurts before he realizes how bitter the words sound. Even, however, doesn’t seem affected by it.

He shrugs lightly. “She went home.”

They fall quiet for a moment. The atmosphere around them is thick and Isak wishes he could say something to break the tension, but he thinks anything that comes out his mouth is going to make it worse if he tries to.

“That’s… kind of what I wanted to talk to you about.” Even says after a while. He shifts his weight awkwardly on his feet and pushes his hands down his front pockets. Isak waits with his heart in his throat for him to continue.

“I shouldn’t have – it was stupid of me to bring Sonja.” Even breathes out, eyes not leaving Isak’s as he speaks. “She asked me if I wanted to meet up with her and I had already said yes to coming here and I didn’t want to decline so I just – you told me I could bring someone so I asked her.” Even starts. He sighs. “I should have asked you first. I’m sorry.”

There’s regret and sincerity laced with Even’s words and suddenly Isak feels bad. He never meant for Even to feel like he did something wrong. Isak was the one who was in the wrong, really, for getting hopes up when he had no right to.

“I told you you could bring someone, it’s fine.” Isak mumbles with a slight shrug of his shoulders. He lowers his eyes to his lap, but still notices the steps Even takes towards him.

“I just don’t want you getting the wrong idea.” He says, his voice barely audible. Isak hears him as clear as ever though and glances up at his best friend in front of him hesitantly. He’s got his bottom lip pulled between his teeth and there’s caution in his eyes.

Isak blinks. “What do you mean the wrong idea?”

Even’s gaze falls to his feet, and he shrugs. “We’re not – she has a boyfriend, you know. It’s not like we’re getting back together or anything.”

Isak shuts down the sudden hope rising in his body; he won’t let himself get expectations again, fairly certain that he can’t take the inevitable disappointment one more time.

Isak blinks twice before he replies. “Okay,” He says, the reply sounding more like a question than an answer. “Why’s that – why do you tell me that?”

Even moves a little closer, and the exhale he lets out trembles. “I just…” He pauses and then lets out a sigh. He sounds exhausted. “Isak, I can’t stand the thought of you thinking I want somebody else.”

Isak’s breath hitches in his throat at that. _It doesn’t mean anything_ , he reminds himself, _know your place_.

But then he tilts his head up and Even is standing right in front of him now, blue eyes already observing him and the air around them has shifted. Isak’s heart starts thrashing around in his chest and his hands grip the edge of the counter so tight it almost hurts.

Even’s stare is intense as he takes another step towards, it makes all the air in Isak’s lungs vanish and all of a sudden he feels like he’s out of breath. It doesn’t help when Even places his palms on the counter on either side of his thighs.

Even exhales then, it comes out a little shakily, and leans forward so his forehead is pressed against Isak’s own, close enough so Isak can see the way his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat as Even swallows roughly. Isak really wishes he could move, but he’s rooted to the spot and hopelessly waits for Even to just _do something_.

(that’s how it’s always been, Isak waiting for Even to move.)

To distract himself from passing out and listening to his heart beating in his chest, Isak counts each breath that Even releases.

When he’s on ten, Even leans a little closer.

At twenty, his breath stutters out from his throat, and Even kisses him.

Isak can’t help the small sound that erupts from his throat; it’s so soft and slow, as if Even is afraid he’ll break him if it was any harder.

It’s not his first kiss by any means, but it’s the first one that has ever made him feel like this.

(it’s not his first kiss, but _fuck_ , he wishes it was.)

Before he can even make any attempt to kiss him back, Even pulls away. It’s only by an inch, but Isak still misses the contact.

Even is looking at him like he’s trying hard to read the expression on Isak’s face, like he wants him to say something.

There’s no way Isak could say anything of any meaning right now – frankly, he doesn’t think his voice would work at all. And so he swallows, he thinks he can hear himself say Even’s name once and before he can change his mind he leans in and closes the distance between them again. Even hums against his mouth and doesn’t wait before he starts moving his lips back, both his hands reaching up to cup Isak’s jaw. Isak forces himself to let go of the grip he has on the counter and places one hand in Even’s hair and the other one on his chest instead.

Breathing is impossible now, but Isak finds himself not minding. It’s not the shortness of breath where his lungs start aching from the lack of air, like last weekend in the pool. No, this kind makes Isak feel lightheaded and as if every nerve-ending in his body has been lit on fire, blood rushing through him hot and fast.

(like he’s finally coming alive – no matter how stupid that sounds.)

Even pulls back when neither of them can kiss any longer. The way he’s looking right now, Isak thinks is the best he’s ever seen him; breathless, face flushed, lips scarlet and swollen.

He can’t contain the small smile that sneaks onto his lips. Even is beaming right back at him, and he’s so beautiful it hurts.

Even leans forward then, but this time he pulls Isak into a soft hug, burying his head in his neck, blonde hair tickling his skin. Isak’s cheek is pressed against his chest so closely he can hear the thumping of his heart in there and it makes the whole thing feel so real it almost makes Isak a little scared. He’s hit with the sudden realization that this is a thing that is actually _happening_ , Even is pressed against him and it’s real.

(it’s so real. It’s the most real Isak’s ever been.)

It makes Isak’s grip on the soft cotton of Even’s shirt a little tighter. Just to make sure he’s not going anywhere.

Isak takes in a sharp breath and closes his eyes.

“Do you want to stay here tonight?” He asks quietly, the words coming out a little muffled from the way he’s pushed into Even’s chest.

“Do you want me to?” Even asks.

Isak almost wants to roll his eyes. Even staying is all he ever wanted, he thinks, but stays away from saying so he simply nods quickly instead. Even pulls away from his neck but only to rest his forehead against Isak’s again. There’s a tiny smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Then I’ll stay.”

And there they are. The words Isak has been waiting on for so long to hear.

-

Isak decides that cleaning up the apartment will have to wait. Soon enough he finds himself in his bed, waiting for Even to come out from the bathroom. Isak doesn’t think he’s ever felt this much at once; anticipation and uncertainty and nervousness and complete bliss at the same time, but he knows he wouldn’t trade it for anything else.

Then Even appears in the doorway. He leans against the frame, and a smile starts to spread across his face slowly, making his eyes crinkle at the sides. Isak’s heart swells in his chest at the sight of it.

He laughs when Even doesn’t move from where he’s stopped in his tracks. “What?”

Even’s smile only grows bigger as he shakes his head. “Nothing.” He shrugs casually, closes the door behind him and then moves to stand in front of the bed and starts getting out of his jeans. He keeps his shirt on and then slides in underneath the covers next to Isak. It’s strange, almost, how it’s the first time they ever do this, but it feels so right, still.

(it feels like the only thing Isak is sure of in this world.)

Even props himself up on his elbow, eyes trailing over Isak’s face where he’s laying flat on the bed, the smile from earlier still evident on his lips. He reaches out and gently traces at one of Isak’s eyebrows with the pad his thumb, the touch making goosebumps rise over Isak’s skin and his spine tingle. It’s beyond him, how Even’s touch has the power to affect him like this. But Isak figures there’s no point in trying to figure it out, either. He simply lets himself feel it.

Even leans down then, achingly slow, and presses his lips to Isak’s. It feels just as breathtaking as the first time. Isak sighs against his lips and brings one of his hands to rest it in Even’s hair. Everything is so warm, from the lips pressed against his own to the hand curled around his jaw to the air surrounding them.

When Even pulls back Isak almost wants to whine at the loss of contact, but then he leans down and starts pressing soft kisses to his jaw, his neck and the tiny spot of skin on his shoulder that his shirt doesn’t cover instead.

And this is – how could he ever try to describe this? It’s all new to Isak – the sensation of genuinely enjoying it when another body is pressed to his.

( _Enjoying it_ might be an understatement, Isak realizes. He tries to come up with a better word for it, but all he ends up that he feels like he’s finally home.)

Isak blinks helplessly at his best friend and pushes a couple of strands of hair falling in Even’s eyes away before he speaks. “I’m happy you’re here.” He admits, voice not much above a whisper.

A smile stretches across Even’s lips and it makes butterflies erupt in Isak’s stomach. “Yeah?”

Isak can’t fight the smile on his own lips. He nods once. “Even though you’re fucking _gigantic_ and take up all the space.”

A laugh leaves Even’s lips and he raises his brows. “Oh yeah?” He chuckles, amusement shining in his eyes. “Already starting to regret inviting me?”

Isak huffs out a laugh. “Hm… yeah, I changed my mind,” He says, grin turning smug. “Get the fuck out of my bed.”

Another loud laugh escapes Even’s lips and his brows shoot up another inch. Then he moves to sit up on the bed. “I mean, if that’s how you want it then -”

A chuckle bubbles up from Isak’s chest and he reaches out to grip at Even's wrist just when he’s about to stand up. “ _No,_ ” He protests, lips turning into a pout before he breaks into a grin again.

A sly smirk spreads on Even’s lips. “I thought you wanted me to go.”

Isak sweeps his eyes over Even’s face, hand coming up to softly stroke at his cheek with his thumb. “I guess you can stay,” He shrugs nonchalantly. “You know, just because it’s kinda late to get home now and all.”

Even is still for a moment before he leans down to peck his lips, his cheek, his nose, and the skin right under his left eye. “Thanks,” He mumbles, “That’s nice of you.” The corner of Even’s lips twitch upwards, and Isak doesn’t think he could ever get enough of this.

-

The naïve part of Isak had hoped that Even being next to him would make sleep come easier. The other part of him, however, knew that that was wishful thinking, that that’s not the way it works when it comes to Isak and his hopeless body. So, naturally, when the clock hits two and the rest of Oslo is asleep, Isak is still wide awake and blinking up at the ceiling. Even is on his stomach beside him, breathing slowly through his nose with an arm slung over Isak’s chest.

There is so much to mull over that Isak doesn’t know where to start.

He won’t allow himself to believe that this is the way things are going to be now. How can he, when he’s gotten his hopes up with Even only to be let down so many times before? But maybe more importantly, when it doesn’t make any _sense_ to Isak that Even would want this. That Even would want _him_.

 _Even_. Even who’s so smart and talented and kind. Even who is _impossible_ to dislike.

Not like Isak is the most self-conscious person there is – but Even is just so _great_. And Isak is just Isak. There’s not that much to him, if he thinks about it – he’s got a bad temper and sucks at most things that aren’t biology or N.W.A lyrics and although he wouldn’t consider himself _ugly,_ he’s nothing compared to Even with his smile that could light up cities and full lips and bright eyes.

One part of Isak is so happy that Even is here, so happy it’s hard to breathe, and the other one is terrified that Even will wake up tomorrow, come to the realization – which is devastating but inevitable – that Isak isn’t enough for him and leave.

(not that Isak wouldn’t blame him if he did, he thinks he’d feel lucky that he at least got this; Even laying in his bed for one night, looking so peaceful and pretty Isak feels like he might burst if he keeps staring at him.)

The next thought lurking in his mind is equally as petrifying – the fact that he’s actually _doing_ this. With Even.

 _With someone who isn’t a girl_ , Isak realizes is probably more accurate. He’d forgotten in the heat of the moment that this isn’t something that he’s _supposed_ to feel, that he’s been pretending for so long that he doesn’t want this. Maybe, he thinks, that’s because he’d always imagined there would be more panic if he ever got to do this. Admittedly, he’s a little scared, but not nearly in the portion he always thought he would be.

He kissed Even. The world didn’t crash and burn, the earth is still moving, the ground is still beneath his feet.

A part of Isak wants to hate himself for it, _god knows_ he’d done it before, but the other part of him feels like that’s impossible. Hating himself for something that feels this good, but maybe more importantly – something that feels absolutely and completely _right_. Like something he’s been waiting for, like something that he’s not able to deny anymore. He can’t find the reason for still doing it, not when he knows so clearly that this is what he wants.

(And maybe, Isak thinks, _maybe_ that’s the first step; admitting it to himself.

Still, it feels impossible to ever be able to tell someone else. The mere thought of anyone finding out makes his heart speed up and his hands shake.)

He glances over to Even then. Though there is crippling anxiety eating away at his insides, Isak can’t help but feel himself relax at the sight of him. For a moment, all the worry and uncertainty ease from his chest and although it might not be the healthiest way of thinking, Isak thinks that maybe he’ll be alright as long as Even stays with him.

-

When Isak flutters his eyes open, there’s an urge in him to curse at the world. It’s become somewhat of a habit; waking up pissed and exhausted down to the bone. He rubs at his eyes with the palm of his hand, and just when he’s about to roll around in the bed a voice from beside him startles him.

“Geez, _finally_.”

Isak tilts his head to the side. Even.

Even is grinning where he's sitting upright in the bed, back against the wall and phone in his hands. “I see you still got your old habit of sleeping until noon.”

Isak blinks. Even’s here. He’s making jokes and smiling and he’s still here. Isak guesses the look on his face is strange, because suddenly the smile on Even’s face is exchanged for a concerned expression.

“You alright?” Even asks, sudden worry evident in his voice.

 _Alright_? Isak is fucking _soaring_ , just a little shocked that Even is still in his bed, that’s all.

“Yeah,” Isak croaks out, his voice still thick with sleep. “Jesus, I’ve been awake for thirty seconds, let a guy breathe.” He jokes, and with that, the grin on Even’s face is back again.

He shrugs. “You know me Isak, my literal job is to annoy you from the second you wake up.” Even says. “I’m a little disappointed it took me thirty actual seconds this time.”

Isak rolls his eyes at him, and this is – this is good. The banter, the jokes. Apparently, that hasn’t changed because they spent the majority of last night kissing like their life depended on it. Isak is glad it hasn’t – he doesn’t think he could handle Even not being his best friend anymore.

He nuzzles his face into the pillow, the gray one which is a little less comfortable. He made sure Even got his blue one, figures the least he could do is give him the good pillow. He looks up at Even and tries to suppress the smile that wants to sneak itself upon his lips.

Even scoots down on the bed then, their positions mirroring each other where they’re laying; both of them on their side, hands resting in between them. A small, soft smile spreads on Even’s lips and then he reaches out to twirl his fingers into the locks of Isak’s hair.

“Sure you’re okay?” He mumbles, eyes searching Isak’s.

Isak nods against the pillow. “I am.” He says. It feels like it’s the first time he’s answering that question without lying.

“Okay.” Even replies. His hand leaves Isak’s hair and reaches down to grab his hand instead, intertwining their fingers carefully. A shiver runs down Isak’s spine from the touch, and he stares at the space between them on the bed where they’re currently connected. It shouldn’t feel this good, simply holding hands with someone.

(Even isn’t just _someone,_ though, Isak reminds himself.)

“I think this is the first time I’ve held your hand.” Even says quietly, his gaze fixated on their intertwined fingers.

Isak blinks. “Yeah,” He breathes out shakily, his eyes following Even as he brings the hands to his lips and kisses each of his knuckles softly. Isak feel his skin tingle from the gentle touch, warmth spreading through his veins.

“That’s weird, isn’t it?” Even begins. “I’ve known you since you were seven and I never held your hand.”

Isak hums. _You can do it now,_ he thinks, but doesn’t say. He simply grips at Even’s finger a little tighter. Even untangles their hands eventually, but only to push his hand into Isak’s hair once again, and then he swallows.

“Can I kiss you now?” He asks, eyes trailing over Isak’s features.

Isak blinks once. “You don’t have to ask.” He says quietly.

“No?”

“No.”

Even cracks a tiny smile. “Alright.” He says. “Duly noted.”

Then he closes the distance between them. It starts out sweet and tentative – lips brushing against each other again and again, slow and gentle. It turns the tiniest bit more heated after that, when Even’s tongue glides against Isak’s bottom lip, and Isak’s hand reaches up to grip at Even’s hair. It’s so good, all of it, and it’s about damn time it is too, Isak thinks.

When neither of them can kiss anymore and all they do is breathe pathetically against each others mouths, Even pulls away and lays his head on the blue pillow again. Still inhaling heavily, he strokes some hair away from Isak’s forehead.

The previous silent peace in the room is disturbed when two loud knocks on the door startle the both of them. Isak’s heart rate increases immediately at the fear of anyone walking in and his grip on the sheet beneath him tighten.

“Isak?” The voice behind the door says – it’s Eskild.

Isak clears his throat before he replies. “Yes?” He says, voice sounding raw and a little breathless.

“I thought I should tell you I’m going out for a while.” He says. “And don’t sleep all day for god’s sake, it’s not healthy.”

Isak has to roll his eyes. “Fine!” He calls out, hopes that the slight shakiness in his voice doesn’t give him away.

“Okay, I’m leaving.” Eskild says, and Isak doesn’t relax until he hears the front door click shut.

He wonders if Eskild is aware that he has a guest. Even’s shoes and coat are still by the door and Eskild, who always seem to notice everything, probably hasn’t missed out on them. Isak reminds himself that it’s okay, it’s cool – Even staying over doesn’t automatically tell Eskild that they’re laying in here making out, but _still_. He lets out a sigh and closes his eyes shut.

Even is looking at him cautiously when he flickers his eyes open again. He looks thoughtful, crease between his brows, but he doesn’t say anything; just simply strokes his thumb over the skin of Isak’s cheekbone.

-

Flipping pancakes, as it turns out, is another talent of Even’s. Isak is as useless as always when it comes to cooking, seated on the counter, unable to do anything else than looking as Even stands by the stove.

“Ha!” Even exclaims when he manages to pull off a particularly smooth flip. “That was a good one, right?”

Isak flashes him a thumbs up. “You’ve got some serious talent, dude.”

“Thanks,” Even grins proudly and turns to face the stove again.

Isak rubs at his neck. “I’m sorry I can’t help out much. ” He apologizes.

Even snorts and he turns his head around to look back. “You don’t know how much you help just by sitting there.”

Isak’s brows furrow. “What does that mean?”

Even sighs, moves the last pancake from the pan to the plate and turns off the stove. A second later he’s standing between Isak legs, foreheads pressed together.

“It means,” Even makes a pause and nudges his nose against Isak’s. “That you’re the cutest person in this world.”

A blush creeps onto Isak’s cheek, his face suddenly burning from Even’s words. He bows his head down and lets out a small laugh at the lack of any other response. Even’s hand comes up to softly wrap itself around Isak’s chin and tilts his head up again, eyes searching his.

“What?” He asks, brows raised. “Too manly to be called cute?”

Isak rolls his eyes. “Fuck off.” He huffs out in a laugh.

A soft laugh leaves Even’s lips. “What is it then?” He asks. “Do you not believe me?”

And that’s – _partly_ true. Isak is aware that he’s not the cutest person in the world or whatever, but also, how the _hell_ is he supposed to accept a compliment? Like, sure, he’s actually gotten plenty of them before from drunk girls at parties and from sober girls who think his hair is nice, but they’re different with Even; they make Isak blush and fiddle and feel nervous and – _fuck_ , he’s so lame it’s pathetic.

When Isak takes too long to answer, Even lets out a sigh and leans in closer. “You’re like, crazy cute Isak.” He pecks his cheek. “You know that, right?”

Isak blinks. Instead of looking down and blushing or answering the question at all, he groans in fake annoyance and leans back with a roll of his eyes.

“Stop calling me that!” He protests, even though it doesn’t bother him, not really.

Even simply laughs. “Okay, fine – you’re so masculine and manly, Isak.” He says. “You’d fit right in on one of those sexist, manly magazine covers where everything is dark and mysterious and you’re surrounded with girls and doing an ad for like, an expensive watch, or something. Very George Clooney.”

A laugh bubble up through Isak’s lips. “Oh my god,” Isak chuckles and pinches the bridge of his nose. “You’re fucking ridiculous.”

Even looks at him, amusement shining in his eyes. “Is that not a better compliment?”

Isak gives out a huff. “Sure, go ahead, compare me to a man in his mid-fifties.”

Even scrunches his brows together, seemingly offended. “Hey, young George Clooney is kinda hot.”

George Clooney is okay, Isak thinks, but that feels like a lot more than he can admit to right now, so he simply shrugs.

Even’s expression softens. He thumbs at Isak’s bottom lip gently and a smile tugs at his lips. “Fine, I won’t compare you to Clooney.” He says. “You’re way cuter than him, anyway.”

Another roll of his eyes is Isak’s answer.

-

The pancakes are good – actually, Isak thinks they might taste even better than they usually do. He’s beginning to suspect that Even’s got superpowers, honestly.

Both of them are too full to move from the kitchen table once they’re finished, so they stay. Even’s been talking about how _The Lion King_ is just a modern version of _Hamlet_ for ten minutes which, if Isak’s being honest, isn’t the most fascinating thing ever. But somehow, as always, he’s still listening and hanging on to every word. What Even doesn’t know, however, is that Isak hasn’t ever watched _The Lion King_. And yeah, he knows – it’s horrible, scandalous – all that.

When Even starts comparing Scar to Claudius, whoever that is, Isak feels like he has to let him know, figures it probably isn’t fair for him to talk so passionately over this and Isak not understanding a thing.

Isak clears his throat in the middle of Even’s rant, and scratches awkwardly at his neck. “You know,” he starts, “I haven’t seen _The Lion King_ yet.” He confesses.

Even is still for a moment, and then his mouth gape open, eyes widen, the shock on his face growing bigger by the second. And Isak didn’t expect anything else, either, because of course Even has to treat this like it’s a disaster.

“Oh, no.” Even shakes his head, closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose with his fingers in an overly exaggerated matter. “Oh no, Isak.”

Isak can’t do anything else but stare at him in amusement. When Even opens his eyes again, he has to laugh at the seriousness in them.

“How’s that even – we were friends for our entire childhood and I somehow didn’t know this?” He says, horrified. “How have you _not_ watched The lion king, Isak?”

“I don’t know!” Isak says defensively, throwing his hands in the air. “I don’t care about Disney movies.”

The expression on Even’s face grows even more horrified. “I take everything back.” He says, shaking his head. “I can’t do this, I can’t _like_ someone who hasn’t seen the masterpiece that is The Lion King.”

Isak stills, feel how the smile on his face falters and he blinks twice. Even seem to notice the change of mood because he frowns and reaches for Isak’s hand across the table and takes it between his own.

“Hey,” He says reassuringly, brows furrowing and sudden worry in his eyes. “I was joking.”

Isak is aware that is was a joke – that’s not the problem. There’s not any problem at all really, just – _like_. It shouldn’t come as a surprise to Isak, Even saying he likes him, considering they _had_ spent yesterday and this morning kissing and touching like their life depended on it and that’s not exactly things people do unless they like each other. Still, Isak can’t help but doubt it, which is stupid, probably, but a great defense mechanism.

Isak clears his throat. “I know, it’s just -” He pauses. Saying the words is fucking difficult, for some reason, but Isak knows he needs to. He can’t go around and wonder and be unsure and let it eat at his mind to not know what they are. Definitions, for some reason, just feels important to him and not having a folder to put Even into right now makes anxiety pool in his stomach, even more so when Isak doesn’t know if Even will have an answer to his question or not. He continues, nonetheless.

“You said you liked me.” He says in an exhale, “And I don’t – I don’t know what that – I don’t know what’s going to happen with us now. I mean I want to, you know, be with you, if that’s something you’d want, but – you’re my best friend too, so I don’t know what that means for us, I guess.” Isak shrugs after his blurt out answer and licks his lips anxiously. Why he’s never able to shut his mouth when he needs to, he has no idea. He keeps his eyes glued to the table, doesn’t dare to find out the look in Even’s eyes.

Even, still holding Isak’s hand between his own, grips his fingers a little tighter. “Isak,” He starts, sounding like he wants his attention.

After a moment, he flickers his eyes up tentatively. Even’s eyes are blazing with something that he can’t name. Moments pass before Even speaks and the silence starts to become suffocating, pushing on Isak’s chest until he can’t breathe and –

“Isak, I’m yours if you want me.”

The breath on its way out from Isak’s throat gets stuck. He blinks at Even, once, twice and swallows hard in his throat. He barely realizes it’s his time to talk before he notices the expression from Even, like he’s waiting on him to continue.

Isak clears his throat. “Are you sure?” He asks, which – _wow_ , that’s a new level of stupid, Isak, honestly.

Even is still for a terrifying moment, but then his lips turns upward in a smile. “Am I _sure_?” He laughs softly. When Isak is still looking at him like he expects an answer, he sighs lightly and caresses his thumb over the palm of Isak’s hand. “Yes, Isak. I’m sure.” He says, and he sounds so certain of it that it’s hard to not believe.

“You know, things might be going a little fast, so we can take it slow, if that’s what you want.” Even adds.

 _A little fast_. Things might have happened drastically the last twenty-four hours, but fast? No, Isak thinks, things haven’t been going fast.

(he’s been waiting for this for so long he can barely remember when it started. How could he ever decline it now? How anyone could look at the boy Isak has in front of him now, and say _hey, no, I don’t want you_ is impossible, Isak feels like.)

He grips at the hand holding his a little harder, and he exhales.

“I’m yours already.” He says, voice pathetically low. That’s what he is, after all, what he’s always been; Isak is undoubtedly and completely Even’s.

Even smiles. So big and brightly it does things to Isak’s heart he couldn’t explain even if he tried to.

“Yeah?” He says then, eyes lighting up, voice sounding like he wasn’t expecting the words coming from Isak’s lips.

Isak nods. The exhale he gives tremble on its way out. “Yeah.”

-

They do end up watching _The Lion King_ after that _,_ tangled together in Isak’s bed. And it’s good, Isak thinks, but he can’t help but be mad at Even for not telling him about the fact that the movie is really fucking _sad_. He feels a little lame for trying to hold back tears to a _Disney_ movie, but even though he succeeds, Even still seem to see through him and only laughs when Isak tells him with a huff that “that was a stupid movie”.

They stay like that for the rest of the day, mushed together underneath the striped sheets, going through other Disney movies Isak had, according to Even at least, missed out on.

(Isak doesn’t get to actually _watch_ the movies, too caught up in Even to be able to focus on anything else than the warmth of his lips and his quiet laugh in his ear.)

The day turns into night eventually and Even has to leave. With a kiss on the lips that makes Isak’s knees weak and a promise to text later, Even opens the front door to walk out and reality sippers in to the flat with it.

Isak finds himself alone in bed after that. He feels happy, mostly, and it’s so rare to him that he almost doesn’t recognize the feeling. Almost, because he can feel the giddiness from his toes all the way to his head and there’s a smile on his face that he can’t seem to get rid of, not even now, all by himself in his room.

Still, there’s something gnawing at the back of his mind.

He needs to go to school tomorrow, he needs to sit with his friends at lunch and talk about things that Isak thinks might be impossible to talk about after this weekend. He was quite good at it before – speaking about girls and pretending he wanted to sleep with that third-year chick that had, according to his friends, a crazy good-looking body.

But now. Now, with the taste of Even’s lips still lingering on his own and Even’s scent on his sheets, Isak doesn’t think he’ll be able to anymore. It’ll feel way too fake, way too much like pretending, to sit and act like he wants to talk about anything else than Even and Even’s kisses and Even’s body and Even’s laugh.

Isak closes his eyes and doesn’t open them until the buzzing of his phone next to him makes him. He sits up at grabs his phone from the bedtable, expecting for it to already be Even who texted him.

It’s not. When he looks at the display, a familiar freeze rushes through his veins. He spends a couple of seconds staring at the notification before he hurriedly deletes it from the screen, locks his phone and puts it in his lap.

It shouldn’t be that big of a deal; they’re just five letters spelling out _Mamma,_ but it’s so much more than that, too – the name brings thoughts about unavoidable guilt and shame with it that forces Isak to think about the selfish piece of shit that he is.

(he doesn’t even look at what she wrote. That just says it all, doesn’t it?)

His phone buzzes in his lap with another message then. Isak sighs, and just when he’s about to put it on silence – that’s what he always does, after all; tries to silence everything regarding his mother and the memories that come along with her – but this time, it’s not her name on the screen.

 **EVEN** 21:21

_this guy on the tram had a super tall hat on and I kept imagining u in it_

Isak can’t help it, and snorts out loud to the text. Just like that, things feel a little easier. He grins at the screen when he types out a reply.

 **ISAK** 21:21

_Oh yeah? would I be hot or not in it_

**EVEN** 21:22

_hmm_

_after a long and deliberate consideration my answer is: hot_

**ISAK** 21:22

_pft_

_now that’s just lies_

_no one can pull of a hat like that_

**EVEN** 21:23

_no u definitely could_

_you’d be a hot version of Abraham Lincoln_

**ISAK** 21:24

_wasn’t Abraham Lincoln like a super racist_

_not sure if I want to be like him_

_and where did you get that picture????_

**EVEN** 21:26

_Oh yeah shit you’re right_

_Instagram. Charming pictures u got there_

**ISAK** 21:27

_are you stalking me?_

_You don’t even have Instagram_

_also you've got some serious photoshop talent im impressed_

**EVEN** 21:28

_why thank you isak_

_Anyway I know who’d you be_

_The guy from Curious George with the yellow hat_

 

 **ISAK** 21:31

_you're unbelievable_

_I gotta study now I thought you wanted to text me about something more important than hats_

**EVEN** 21:32

_fine be boring and responsible_

Isak rolls his eyes at that, puts down his phone and picks up his biology book from the floor. Just when he starts to read about the carbon cycle, his phone buzzes with another text.

 **EVEN** 21:34

_I miss you_

Isak can’t help but smile.

 **ISAK** 21:35

_you saw me 1 hour ago_

**EVEN** 21:36

_And????_

**ISAK** 21:37

*eye roll emoji*

_I miss you too_

**EVEN** 21:38

_Alright now that we got that established I’ll let you study_

**ISAK** 21:38

_loser_

**EVEN** 21:38

<3

-

It’s almost funny, Isak thinks, how three days ago at school he felt like a different person compared to right now. It’s not like anything has _changed_ in him, he’s still trying his best to stay awake during English and still despises the food in the cafeteria, but he feels different, nonetheless.

He wouldn’t go as far as saying he’s in a good mood, it _is_ a Monday after all, but he doesn’t glare at Magnus as much as he usually does at lunch. Which, naturally, Magnus just _has_ to comment on.

“Fuck is up with you, dude?” Magnus asks, appalled. “Is Isak Valtersen… _happy_? On a _Monday_?”

Isak rolls his eyes. “Fuck off.” He mutters and takes a bite out of his sandwich.

Magnus' eyebrows raise. “Hold up,” He trails off, eyes squinted. “Did you get lucky this weekend, or what?”

Isak feels his cheeks heat up on their own accord. He’s not completely certain on what Magnus consider _getting lucky_ is, but according to Isak himself, he did get pretty lucky. His own definition of it, anyway.

Despite the blush on his face, Isak glares at Magnus. “No,” He snaps. “Jesus, does _everything_ I do have to revolve around a girl?”

He regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth – they’re too close to what he’s actually feeling, too _revealing,_ somehow. Isak dreads the upcoming reactions, he doesn’t want to have to explain himself or stay on the subject for any longer.

They don’t come, the outrageous reactions – Magnus simply raises his eyebrows the slightest bit.

“Alright, sorry man,” He says, “Just, it’s nice to see you looking like you aren’t running on one hour of sleep and all grumpy, is all.”

Isak licks his lips and looks at his hand picking at his sandwich. “Yeah,” He mumbles. “Okay.”

It turns uncomfortably quiet for a second and Isak feels like cursing at himself for creating it the first place. The silence only lasts a moment, luckily, before Jonas breaks it.

“Did cleaning up go alright Saturday, or?” He asks, “I saw some guy spill booze on the rug in the living room.”

Isak blinks. It’s not like he can tell Jonas he was too busy making out with Even to get any cleaning done, so he nods, despite it being Eskild who tidied up the entire apartment.

“Yeah, it was okay.” He shrugs. “How was the party you went to?” Isak asks, desperate to change the subject.

Jonas scratches at his neck. “Fuck, there was like this chick I used to hook up with a while ago, super cool, and I thought I’d go over there you know, but just when I was gonna say hi she like, leaned over and puked all over her shoes.” He says, and it looks like he winces at the thought of it. “And then a guy came to help her, turns out it was her boyfriend. So I kinda struck out.”

Isak chuckles. “Damn,” He laughs. “Your luck, bro.”

Jonas sighs. “Tell me about it.” He says, “So I went home and watched _Stranger Things_. And hey, did you talk to Even? You guys seemed a little strange back at the party.”

Magnus' ears seem to perk up at that. “Who’s Even?”

Isak has to stop his eyes from widening on their own accord and all of a sudden he feels himself tensing up. “He’s, uh - a friend.” He replies.

Magnus looks both confused and offended. “How come I haven’t heard of him?”

Isak tries to relax and lets out a laugh he almost has to force out of himself. “Are you jealous?” He asks, desperate on trying to lighten the tension – even though there probably isn’t any tension to anyone but himself.

“Uh, yeah.” Magnus replies, unashamed. “Jonas knows about him and I don’t! How come you have a friend I don’t know about?”

Jonas rolls his eyes. “Calm down, they just started hanging out again.”

Magnus doesn’t let it go. “ _Just started hanging out again_?” He mimics, seemingly confused. “What?”

Isak licks his lips. “We were, uh – friends when we were younger.” He mumbles. It’s weird, kind of, how he wants nothing more than to talk about Even, but doesn’t want to at all at the same time.

“You’re kidding me,” Magnus deadpans. “You got a childhood friend I don’t know about?”

Isak shrugs, and Magnus looks like his mind is blown by the new information.

“Isak, you’re so mysterious sometimes, man.” He shakes his head.

Jonas chuckles and rolls his eyes again. “Anyway,” he says, averting his attention back to Isak. “did you talk, or what?”

Isak chews on the inside of his cheek. Did they talk? Isak remembers a couple of words crammed in between their kisses. That has to count as talking, surely. So he nods once.

“Yeah, we’re good now.” He replies.

“Okay,” Jonas says, “Cool.”

His heart pounds during the rest of the conversation.

-

A week after their first kiss, Even comes over to the flat. When Isak opens the door he’s standing outside, grinning widely and holding a wine bottle in his hands.

Isak frowns on instinct.

“We’re celebrating!” Even declares before he pushes past Isak to walk through the door.

Isak stands still, dumbfounded. “Celebrating _what_ , exactly?”

A chuckle emerges from Even’s lips. “That it’s been a week since I got my shit together and kissed you, obviously.”

Even though Isak turns a little weak in the knees at that, he still rolls his eyes. “You know, I won’t be one of those people who have lame week-anniversaries.” Isak protests, shooting Even a look.

He gets a dismissive wave of his hand as a response. “Shut up,” Even replies while struggling to get out of his coat. “Is anyone home?”

Isak shakes his head. Eskild is out with a Grindr hook-up, which he earlier gave Isak a little too much details about, and Linn away somewhere with her parents.

Even seems to be happy with the answer, because he quickly leans forward to attach his lips to Isak. Isak can’t help but close his eyes and all but melt into the touch.

When Even pulls back, he’s grinning. “Alright, where do you keep your wine glasses?”

-

An hour later, they’re sprawled on the living room floor, Isak probably a lot more tipsy than he should be after three glasses of white wine.

When Even comes back after a visit to the bathroom and almost trips over the coffee table, Isak can’t stop the giggles that leave his lips. He keeps laughing until Even lays down on the floor with him and presses their lips together. Neither of them can do very much with the wide grins on their faces.

“Are you seriously drunk?” Even says against his lips.

Isak frowns at the accusation, like it’s the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard. “No, I’m not.” He huffs out.

Even grins knowingly. “Holy shit,” He smiles. “I’ve never come across a more adorable person than you when you’re drunk.”

Isak rolls his eyes. “You haven’t even seen me drunk yet.” He points out.

Even cocks an eyebrow. “Really?” He says smugly. “Are you suggesting you were sober when I picked you up on Halloween?”

Halloween. Right. A memory Isak would gladly erase from his memory if he could.

(that’s a lie, he realizes. He doesn’t think he’d ever erase anything where Even is involved.)

“Alright, well, I can’t have been very adorable then, almost throwing up in your car.” Isak says in defense.

Even sighs. “You clearly underestimate yourself, Isak.” He says. “That’s definitely on the top five list of you being cute.”

Isak raises his brows. “You have a list?”

Even gives him a look. “Yes?” He says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “If you don’t have one of me, I’m seriously reconsidering this thing we got going on here.”

Isak laughs and pushes his hand into Even’s hair. “I don’t need a list,” He says. “You’re equally as cute all the time.” Isak says, and briefly wonders what the hell Even is doing to him. _Cute_ had never been in his vocabulary before.

Even’s expression lights up before he leans down and kisses him. “Look at you, being all disgusting and romantic,” He grins. “Here I thought I was alone with that.”

Isak rolls his eyes. “At least I don’t come up with stupid one-week anniversaries.” He mutters.

Even doesn’t seem affected, he only smiles and pecks Isak’s lips tenderly. “You love it,” He mumbles, which, Isak can’t even protest against that. Then again, he thinks he’d love anything if he did it with Even.

After that, Even insists he needs a smoke and a minute later they’re on the balcony. It’s late and dark outside, but Oslo doesn’t seem to mind with the cars speeding by and people yelling out on the street. Despite that, Isak thinks it feels like they’re the only people on earth when they’re up here. The only ones that matter, anyway.

He looks over to Even. He brings the cigarette to his lip and inhales, holding it in for a while before he exhales a white cloud of smoke. How he can look so beautiful simply doing that is a mystery Isak thinks he’ll never solve.

“Can I have a drag?” Isak asks, holding out his hand towards Even.

Even’s brows shoot up. “The first thing you did after four years of not seeing me was to scold me for smoking cigarettes.”

Isak shrugs. “I didn’t scold you.” He says. “I just stated facts. It was a great conversation starter, wasn’t it?”

Even chuckles. “I guess it was.” He agrees before he offers the cigarette to Isak, his eyes not leaving him as he places the cigarette between his lips and takes a long drag. Even though it’s shadowy outside, Isak still notices the way Even’s eyes darken the tiniest bit when he keeps his eyes on him.

After another drag, Isak passes over the cigarette to Even again. He brings it to his lips, and gazes out into the night. Isak thinks he can see a small crease forming in between his eyebrows.

“The universe thing you always talked about when we were kids,” He says as he exhales. “Do you still believe in that?”

Isak hums. “I think so.”

Even nods slowly, still looking forward. He seems thoughtful, flickers ash from the cigarette and then asks “Do you think we might have never be away from each other for years in another one of those?”

Isak blinks at him. Even turns his head to look at him, and there’s something pooling in his eyes. Sadness, Isak thinks it might me. Of the years they lost and won’t ever get back.

He thinks for a while, and he furrows his brows. “Maybe,” He starts. “I think there are infinitive versions of us. Some of them are bound to have another story than this Isak and Even, I feel like.”

Even nods to his words, the crease between his brows still hasn’t vanished. “Do you think…” He cuts himself off with clearing his throat. “Would you rather be one of those versions? One where we never stopped talking.”

Isak frowns. Would he? At the time when it was happening, the time where Isak couldn’t seem to do anything else than miss Even with an aching in his chest every day, the answer would’ve probably been yes, Isak thinks. He thinks he would have done anything to get Even back, would’ve done anything to stop the tears that rolled down to his throat at night, would’ve done anything to stop feeling like he had no one but himself anymore.

Now, Isak thinks, that answer might not be the same. He guesses that in some way or another, the years that went by without Even would happen anyway, just in a different way if it wouldn’t have played out like that.

“I’m not sure.” Isak replies truthfully. “But I think, no matter what, I always end up with you here in some way.”

And that’s all Isak needs, really.

“I’m just thinking about…” Even pauses and Isak hears him take in a sharp breath. He stubs the cigarette against the ashtray. “What would’ve happened if I didn’t leave you like that.”

His voice is small and the sound of it makes Isak’s heart squeeze painfully.

“I left you all alone, didn’t I?” He says. The pain in his eyes makes Isak clench his fist together. “I just – _left_ you, I was going to leave without saying a word.” He shakes head, as if he’s cursing himself. “You were my best friend and you didn’t deserve that, Isak. Especially not when… when you had things going on that… _fuck_ , it broke me seeing you like that. And I barely tried getting you back, did I? I sent three texts during four years, and then I almost got angry when you didn’t answer. Can you believe that?” His voice shakes a little at the end.

Isak blinks at him, tries to desperately swallow down the sudden lump in his throat. The words spilling from Even’s lips makes it hard to breathe. Isak isn’t sure what to say, how to put his word to take the blame and hurt haunting Even’s mind away.

Isak exhales, and places his hand on Even where it’s resting on the cold floor of the balcony. He threads their fingers together, and squeezes them tightly between his own.

“You’re here now, aren’t you?” He says quietly, eyes searching Even’s.

When Even doesn’t answer, simply stares back at him blankly, Isak moves to swing one of his legs across Even’s lap and sits on it, hands coming up to cup Even’s jaw.

“I know you didn’t mean to hurt me.” He affirms quietly. “I don’t care about that. You’re here now.” He says, pushing on Even’s head until he’s forced to meet his gaze. Even swallows harshly, eyes glazed over with something that weighs down Isak’s chest until it’s aches.

He leans forward and brushes his lips against Even’s cheek, his eyelids and finally his mouth.

“I don’t care about anything else.” Isak breathes out against his lips, pulling back to look at Even’s eyes. The expression on his face almost looks melancholic.

“I wish I was there for you then.” He says quietly.

It probably makes him selfish, Isak thinking he wishes that, too. But he’s also well aware that he wasn’t – and that they can’t change that.

So Isak says, “You are now.”

Even’s jaw clenches underneath his skin. “Is that enough, though?”

It takes a moment before Isak nods. It is and it’s one of the few things Isak is completely sure of.

He sighs and leans his forehead against Even’s, hand grazing the skin of his cheekbone. “It’s enough.”

“It’s just, sometimes…” Even makes a pause. Isak thinks he can feel the beating of the heart in the chest beneath him getting a little bit more intense. “Sometimes I feel like all I do is hurt you.”

Isak’s heart twists in his chest, a painful motion that makes his grip on Even’s forearms a little tighter.

He gulps. “Don’t say that, Even.” He says silently, chest tightening from Even’s confession.

It turns silent for a moment. Another quiet sigh leaves Even’s lips.

The aching in Isak’s chest grows bigger. It doesn’t make any sense to him, Even thinking he makes Isak anything but happy. Even not knowing how shitty his life would be without him.

Which, Isak realizes, is not really anyone’s fault but his own, for never being able to just say how he feels. Maybe Even would know by now, if Isak could open his fucking mouth and speak for once, that he’s not hurting him. That he makes him the happiest he’s ever been. He’d do anything to make sure he knows that now, though, he thinks he’d scream it on top of his lungs if that’s what it would take.

“You said once that only I can feel what I feel.” Even says then, voice detached.

“And you can.” Isak starts tentatively, tries to keep his voice from shaking. “You can feel what you feel. But I’m telling you now that you don’t – that you don’t need to feel that way. You’re not hurting me.” He says and swallows down the feelings creeping up in his throat. “You make me so happy,” Isak admits, voice quiet, eyes searching Even’s in a desperate way for him to believe the words coming out from his mouth.

Even looks at him for a long moment. And Isak looks back, thumb caressing the skin of his best friend’s cheek over and over, tries to not give away that the expression on Even’s face is a second from making his eyes water.

It’s killing him, if he’s being honest, both the look on Even’s face and his words. It came unexpected to Isak, the thought of Even thinking anything else but good about himself had never occurred to him and how could it, when he can’t find a single thing about Even that he doesn’t adore?

It pains him, almost, realizing that Even thinks that about himself.

Even closes his eyes for a second. He exhales. “What if I do, though?” He says, jaw clenching underneath his skin. “What if I hurt you?”

His heart twitches painfully in his chest again. Isak thinks the words sound like they’re something that’s been tugging on Even’s mind for a while. He can’t figure out why, or what the meaning behind it is, but what he does know, however, is that he can’t bear to see the look on Even’s face a second longer.

“You probably will.” Isak starts, “And I’ll probably hurt you, too. That’s just… it’s just how life goes, I think.” He swallows roughly. “But we’ll get through it, alright? And we’ll make each other happy.”

His thumb grazes Even’s cheek again. “You make me happy.” He tells him again. He’ll say it as many times as it takes for Even to believe it. “I don’t think anyone makes me as happy as you do.”

Something changes in Even’s expression, and then his hand moves from Isak’s hair to curl around his jaw, eyes trailing over his face. “I just… I’ve never felt like this before, ever.” He says quietly, and it almost makes Isak’s breath hitch in his throat. “I guess I’m just scared I’ll fuck it up.”

“You won’t.” He swallows, “I promise, you won’t.”

He leans forward to capture Even’s lips with his own softly, unable to think of another way to reassure him more.

“I’ve known you since I was seven.” He mumbles, pressing a kiss to the corner of Even’s mouth. “I know you too well to think you could ever do anything to fuck this up,” Another kiss pressed to his cheek. “I’ll be here. I’ll be yours as long as you want me.” Isak says and ducks his head down, away from Even’s gaze. The words are sincere, Isak thinks it might be the realest thing he’s ever said, but it’s uncomfortable still, saying it out loud.

It turns silent except for the noise on the street, and instantly Isak starts regretting the words. They were way too straight-forward, probably, too desperate sounding to say to someone who he’s not even sure what they are. But then he looks up, and even though it’s tiny and barely there, there’s a smile on Even’s face. He drags his hand through Isak’s hair, licks his lips in a nervous matter, almost, and he exhales. “I think I’ve wanted you all my life.”

There’s a skip in Isak’s heartbeat, breath hitching in his throat. He can’t do anything but stare at Even for a moment, his mind trying to piece together why he’d gotten the privilege of getting this fucking lucky.

“Yeah?” He breathes out then, hearing his own voice come out as a mix of uncertainty and hope.

Even’s smile stretches a little wider, and then he nods, eyes a little brighter than before.

Even doesn’t answer, and he doesn’t need to either, because he simply leans in and presses their lips together. To Isak, that’s enough of a reply.

-

 **DAD** 16:46

_Your mother is asking for you, Isak. I know you’re upset with me, but at least answer her when she messages you._

Isak blinks at the message. He’s in the middle of studying – which wasn’t too successful to start with and now it feels almost impossible to be able to focus on biology with his father’s text echoing in his skull. He locks his phone and throws it at the edge of his bed. Thoughts that make his hands shake both out of anger and something else enters his skull, and Isak clenches his eyes and his jaw to make them disappear. He wishes it was that easy, wishes he could close his eyes and the unwelcomed thoughts of his mother would vanish from his head.

It’s not that easy, though. Feelings and thoughts and memories fill Isak’s mind until it’s all he can think about, until everything is screaming at him and he’s faced with the familiar feelings of regret and shame and wishing he’d done things differently.

Neither of them seems to go away, so Isak does the only thing he can think of that might make them.

 **ISAK** 16:58

_wanna come over?_

He stares at the screen and taps his finger against it again and again, rubs his eyes with the other hand.

 **EVEN** 17:00

_thought you’d never ask, damn_

_im on my way_

-

It probably doesn’t take more than thirty minutes for Even to stand outside the front door, but still, when Isak hears the faint knocks he’s up from his bed and rushing to the door, feeling like he’s been waiting for _ages_.

“Hi,” Even breathes out once Isak has opened the door, both sounding and looking like he’s out of breath.

“Hey,” Isak says back. The thoughts from before are replaced when he’s got Even standing in front of him. Replaced, Isak realizes, isn’t what it is – because his mind is wiped out from anything at all, no thoughts what so ever circles in his mind. There’s just a need in him, all of a sudden, to have Even close.

He steps aside to let Even walk in to remove his shoes and coat and then they head to his room, Isak first and Even trailing closely behind him. When the door click shut, both of them stand awkwardly on their feet and face each other.

“What do you wanna do?” Even asks, scratches at his neck.

Isak blinks twice. He hasn’t touched Even since Friday, busy with studying that he knows he won’t get anywhere with if Even is near. It’s been two days, but it feels like an eternity.

(and Isak should be used to not touching Even, really, he spent years without it having it. Still, his entire being aches from the lack of it.)

Without answering the question, he takes two steps forward and places his lips on Even’s. A surprised sound leaves Even’s lips but then he’s kissing back, moving his lips against Isak and gripping his face with both hands. In an unspoken agreement they stumble over to the bed, Isak’s back against the mattress, hips straddled by Even’s knees.

Even breaks the kiss and there’s a small smile tugging at his lips. “I missed you.” He breathes out, so quietly Isak wouldn’t be able to hear it if he wasn’t pressed against him.

“Yeah,” Isak says, tucking strands of hair behind Even’s ear. “Me too.”

Even leans in again, presses a sweet kiss to his cupid bow and hums. “I hate that you have to be all smart and focus on studying all the time.” He mumbles against Isak’s jaw, lips pressing a soft kiss to it after.

Isak lets out a laugh. “Sorry,” He smiles. “But I won’t settle for 3’s for you.”

Even leans back, touches his nose to Isak’s. “Good,” He nods. “I wouldn’t let you, anyway. No matter how hard it is to leave you alone sometimes.”

Isak grins before bringing their lips back together, welcoming the dizziness from the touch with open arms. He loves this for so many reasons, one of them being the countless sensations it brings him every single time Even is this close to him. Things he didn’t know he could feel – things he never thought he would _get_ to feel. Isak thinks that maybe somewhere inside of him he knew kissing wasn’t supposed to feel like it did with Emma, or Sara, or any girl he’d kissed before.

(like complete emptiness in his stomach, lips feeling nothing but stale and sticky, like how he always felt like wincing when small hands started to wander down his body.)

But nothing could ever prepare him for _this._ Even and soft lips and hands gripping his face and waist and quiet sighs in a dark room. _This_ , Isak thinks, is something he won’t ever get enough of.

Another reason why he loves this so much is because of something he didn’t know until just now. How – just with the brush of his lips – Even is able to take it away. The anger and the worry and the regret. It just vanished, taking Isak’s shaking hands with it. It’s almost frightening, how Even can ease his mind just like that, how he can make Isak think about nothing else than the way his heartbeat both speed up and winds down from the closeness of them.

For a moment, Isak wonders if he does that to Even, too. But he quickly decides that that’s not possible.

(if Isak could do half the things Even does to him, he’d be happy, he thinks.)

Even pulls away when Isak starts gripping his hair a little tighter and starts kissing him a little more heatedly. It’s good one of them knows how to make a well-reasoned decision here, Isak thinks. God knows he’d never know when or how to stop, and he figures that might lead to things that he knows he wants, but knows he might not be entirely ready for just yet, too. After all, simply kissing Even still raises the slightest panic in Isak’s throat, even though it’s a little difficult to admit.

He wishes it wasn’t like that, wishes he could be like Even who seems so sure of things, who Isak doesn’t think would fall off the face of the earth and die if anyone would find out about the two of them, which Isak can’t say for himself.

Even climbs away from his hips and lays himself on the bed next to him, pulling Isak to his side, head resting on his chest. A pair of lips brush against his forehead, and Even exhales against his skin. “How was your day?” He asks, fingers twirling the locks of Isak’s hair.

Isak hums. “Okay.” He replies, without giving the answer a second thought. “Yours?”

Even takes his time with answering, chest rising up and down steadily a couple of times before he replies “Good now.”

Isak smiles against the fabric of Even’s hoodie. “Good.”

A comfortable silence follows after that, Isak’s eyes close on their own accord and he finds himself listening carefully to all the breaths Even releases. They’re oddly calming in a way, and Isak barely realizes his own breathing getting slower second by second. When Even suddenly breaks the silence, he’s on the verge of falling asleep.

“You can’t fall asleep now, it’s only five thirty.” He mumbles softly, a quiet chuckle following after, Isak feeling the chest underneath him vibrate along with it.

“I’m tired.” Isak mutters against Even’s body before he nuzzles even further into it. It only last a second, his face pressed into Even’s chest, before Even is gently taking a hold of his chin and tilting it upwards. His brows are furrowed, eyes looking both thoughtful and concerned.

“How come?” He asks.

Now it’s time for Isak to pull his brows together. “What?”

Even licks his lips. “How come you’re tired all the time?” He asks, confusion in between his words. Then, he strokes the pad of his thumb over the skin underneath Isak’s eyes slowly. The crease between his brows grows. “These circles never seem to disappear.”

Isak feels his body go stiff for a second before he reminds himself to relax. He doesn’t have a good answer – figures that telling Even that for some reason, his body won’t ever just fucking sleep at night probably won’t make any sense. So he shrugs.

“I just am, I guess.”

The answer doesn’t ease the confusion and worry from Even’s eyes.

“Do you sleep?” Even asks, “At night, I mean.”

Isak’s silence after the question seems to be enough of an answer to Even. He pulls Isak a little closer, and sighs into his hair. After a silence where Isak can _hear_ Even thinking, the quietness breaks.

“You know,” Even pauses. “I’m like that sometimes, too. Can’t sleep.”

Isak meets his eyes. “Really?”

Even nods once, and then hums. “But it’s – it shouldn’t be like that all the time. Is it?”

Isak swallows. “What do you mean?”

A hand comes up to stroke at Isak’s cheek. The crease between Even’s eyebrows is still there. “Is it a problem every night? Sleeping?” He asks.

Isak thinks for a moment. There are nights where he gets at least five hours of sleep, but the bad nights had outweighed the good ones a long time ago. It feels pretty meaningless to tell Even that, however – it’s not like he could do anything about it, anyway.

So Isak shakes his head. “No, or I mean – it’s really not a problem, Even. I’m fine.”

Even frowns. “It doesn’t look like it.”

Isak feels himself growing irritated – not with Even exactly, just with the subject in general, and all the questions. A sigh escapes from his lips, and he moves to sit up straight on the bed.

“I am, alright?” Isak says. He doesn’t mean for the words to sound as exasperated as they come out, but he can’t help it. “So don’t… worry, or whatever it is that you do.”

He looks down to Even, still laying flat on the bed, still the same expression on his face; brows knitted together and concern in his eyes.

Isak thinks it looks like he doesn’t want to let go of the subject, like he wants to press some more, but he doesn’t. He simply nods once.

“Okay.” Even trails off. “But you’d tell me if you weren’t, right?”

Isak swallows. Would he?

Probably not, he realizes. Why he’d bother Even with his own shit that isn't Even’s problems in the slightest doesn’t make any sense to him. It would be hard to explain, too, since Isak thinks he wouldn’t have a good explanation as to why he struggles with his sleep anyway.

(or maybe he would.

Maybe he knows that it’s his loud mind and constant, never-ending thoughts that neglects him from the sleep at night. Maybe he’s aware that it’s the stress and worry and uncertainty pooling in his stomach that’s behind it all, but for whatever reason, that seems like such a silly thing to say out loud.)

So he nods as a reply.

“Sure.” He says out loud before he leans down to press a kiss to Even’s lips, in a way to make up for the previous harshness from him a second ago.

Even smiles against his lips, pulling on Isak’s arm until he’s laying on top of him, chests pressed together. He tilts his head upwards to peck Isak’s lips once again, and then there’s a sigh of contentment escaping from his mouth.

This might be a problem, Isak realizes. The things they don’t talk about. Like how they know each other so well but doesn’t at the same time, like how Even came back after four years and the only time Isak tried to ask him why he’d shook his head and said something about stress that even Isak could see through.

Both of them is aware of it, neither of them talks about it.

Isak wonders if they ever will.

-

Two weeks after that, (two weeks filled with looks and carefully chosen words from Eskild when Even spends close to every day at the flat, two weeks of Isak being tired of having to pretend like he doesn’t want to kiss Even when he walks into the kitchen while Eskild is there, two weeks of Isak considering not hiding anymore,) there’s a knock on his door when he’s laying in his bed.

“Yes?” He calls out, and Eskild peeks his head through the door.

“Hello, little friend,” Eskild says cheerfully and proceeds to walk in and sit next to Isak on the bed. “I’m here to remind you about rent. Again.” He says it with a smile on his face, but Isak guesses he’s getting tired of constantly having to remind him to send the money in. This time, Isak’s father had actually transferred money on time but Isak had forgotten to pay, anyway. Why Eskild puts up with him is still a mystery.

“Yeah, sorry.” Isak says, “I’ll do it today.”

“No worries.” Eskild replies reassuringly, “I’m guessing you’ve been a little… preoccupied with other things lately, so.” He smiles, looking at Isak like he’d rather say something else-

Isak doesn’t know how to answer, so he simply says “Yeah, I guess.” And lowers his gaze to the fidgeting hands in his lap.

It’s quiet for a moment, and then Eskild slaps his hands together and is just about to stand up when Isak realizes that he should – that maybe it would be good to say something – that maybe he _wants_ to say something before Eskild goes.

“Eskild?” He starts, tentative, eyes still on his own hands.

Eskild stills from beside him. “Mhm?”

A long exhale escapes from Isak, his throat suddenly feeling dry, so he swallows twice before he speaks again. He flickers his eyes up hesitantly to Eskild. “You…” He pauses. Isak can’t figure out why this is so fucking hard. “You already know, don’t you?” And it doesn’t make any sense, probably, but Isak has no idea what else to say.

“About?” Eskild presses, brows furrowing together.

Isak breathes, in and out, and he averts his gaze from Eskild, figures it’ll be a lot less hard if he’s not looking at him while speaking. “Me.” He says quietly, “And Even.”

Eskild is quiet. The silence in the room is almost too much to handle.

“I don’t know,” Eskild begins. “Is there something you want me to know about you?”

Isak blinks. “Do I have to say it?” He says, eyes glued to his fingers playing with the hem of his shirt. It’s a silly thing to say, considering he’s the one who started this conversation in the first place. But the words, resting on his tongue, won’t come out for some reason.

“You don’t have to say anything.” Eskild says softly, “But maybe it would feel good if you did.”

Isak looks at him at that. Maybe he’s right, Isak thinks. Maybe it would feel better.

“I just don’t fucking know why it’s so damn hard.” Isak begins, a little more pressure behind his words than before. He takes a sharp breath. “To say that I like Even.”

And there it is, out from the safety of his mouth and his mind, and Isak has no idea how to feel about that. He can’t do anything else than bite down at his bottom lip so hard he thinks it'll draw blood.

Eskild’s face doesn’t change. He looks understanding and patient and Isak is so glad he does, even if it doesn’t take away the panic rising in his body. “It is hard.” Eskild agrees knowingly. “But you know, it’ll get easier. Just by telling me now, I think you might feel a little bit better.” He says, placing a calming hand on Isak’s shoulder.

Isak glances at him, and he nods. “Yeah,” He answers quietly, “Maybe.”

Eskild smiles softly. “It’s great that you’ve found someone you like.” He says, “Someone that makes you happy.”

“He does.” Isak agrees silently. It doesn’t feel hard to say at all – it just feels right.

Eskild smiles grow a little bigger. “I can tell.”

A silence follows after that. Isak’s heart is pounding furiously in his chest, but he feels okay. Maybe even a little bit more real.

A buzz from Isak’s phone goes off in the quiet room then. Isak turns around to grab his phone and look at the new message on the display. Even, of course.

Eskild seems to have seen too, and he grins. “Speak about the devil.” He says, brows raised. “I’ll let you get to it.”

Isak watches him as he stands up and when he gets to the door, he stills. “You know you can talk to me whenever, yeah?” Eskild says.

Isak swallows and he nods once, slowly. “Okay.” He deadpans. “And, uh – thanks.”

Eskild smiles. “No problem, baby Jesus.”

Isak can’t fight the small smile making its way to his lips when Eskild has closed the door behind him. Things feel a little less hard, somehow.

-

Things go well. It takes awhile to get used to, things working the way Isak actually wants to for once. When he _does_ realize that this is just his life now – Even being his and things being great between them – it’s so good. Finally, it’s good.

Even though Isak isn’t sure what the two of them are. Words like _boyfriend_ have never been uttered, but maybe they don’t need to be either, Isak realizes. Having Even over almost every day after school, having him sleep in his bed and rant about things Isak barely understands and leave dirty dishes in the sink is enough, he thinks.

It’s been a month now – four weeks and two days, but who’s counting? – and it’s good. Until small things like his dad desperate tries to reach out or unread messages from his mother or his friends asking why he’s always bailing or _what happened with Emma, dude?_ interrupts the calm that lies within his bones. He can’t find it in him to do anything about it, can’t do anything but ignore the calls and leave the messages unread and rolls his eyes at his friends.

Where would he even start, if he was to do something about it? It’s a fucking mess, all of it, and most of the problems feel like they’re impossible to solve. Like his time has run out to fix them, like it’s way too fucking late to do something about them now.

So Isak doesn’t try. He kisses Even at night and falls asleep at three next to him, acts like things except for Even and him aren’t as messy as they really are.

-

**GUTTAAA**

**JONAS** 20:19

_boyssss_

_bakka party on Friday? Yes/no?_

**MAHDI** 20:20

_count me in_

**MAGNUS** 20:21

_hell yes!!!!!_

_been way too long since we got drunk_

**JONAS** 20:23

_nice_

_isak, you in dude?_

Isak frowns at the message. He looks at Even, seated in the space between Isak’s bed and the TV, playing FIFA alone when Isak had insisted he needed to study.

“Even?” He tries.

Even doesn’t tear his eyes from the screen, in fact, he doesn’t reply at all, apparently way too caught up in the game to respond.

Isak rolls his eyes. “ _Even_ ,” He calls out again.

This time, he gets a distracted hum from where Even’s sitting. Isak sighs and with another roll of his eyes he crawls across the bed and bends down until he reaches to press a kiss to Even’s neck. This, it seems, works better to get his attention. Still not enough for him to pause the game, however.

A grin tugs on Even’s lips. “Hello,” He says, his gaze still focused on the screen in front him.

“I’m trying to talk to you.” Isak mumbles, exasperated, and gives Even’s neck another kiss.

This time, the game is paused and Even lowers the controller to his lap. Still grinning, he turns around on the floor to face Isak on the bed.

He cocks an eyebrow. “I think it seems like you’re trying to kiss me,” He retorts.

A huff leaves Isak’s lips. “Yeah, because you don’t care about me unless I’m touching you, obviously.” He says, fondly annoyed.

Even laughs. “Now that’s just not true, Isak.” He says before he climbs up on the bed and over Isak until his back is flat against the mattress and Even hovers over him. “Although I do very much like it when you’re touching me.”

Isak rolls his eyes again, but can’t fight the smile that tugs at the corner of his mouth. He gives in and lets it spread over his mouth. “I hate you, you know.”

Even laughs loudly above him, the sound of it echoing through Isak’s room. “Why do you insist on lying to me all the time?”

“I’m not lying,” Isak persists, grin turning smug. “I _do_ hate you.”           

Even cocks one eyebrow at him, shoots him a look of disbelief before he tilts his head down. Just when Isak thinks he’s going to kiss him, Even dodges his mouth and presses a kiss to his jaw instead. “Really now?” He mumbles against his skin, lips traveling from his jaw to his pulse instead.

Isak lets his eyes slip shut when Even’s lips press to his neck, and he hums. “Mhm,” he replies in his throat, hands flying up to Even’s hair.

Isak can feel a small chuckle against his throat before he feels the warmth of Even’s tongue against his skin, and he should stop him now, really, because… because – _what_ was he supposed to tell him again? Isak can’t remember, not when lips and teeth meet his collarbone and it feels so good that a tiny sound makes its way out from his lips.

Then Even’s breath is hot in his ear, teeth catching on to his earlobe before another kiss is placed to his jaw. It’s getting frustrating, not having Even’s lip against his, so he all but forces them together. It’s desperate and a little messy, their lips colliding, Even humming against his mouth when Isak’s tongue slides against his bottom lip.

Even keeps one hand on Isak’s face and the other one sneaks under his t-shirt, cold fingers grabbing his waist and hip and Isak has to let out a muffled sound against his lips. It’s breathtaking, as it always is. Isak doesn’t know how he lived through seventeen years without this, honestly. He knows he used to wonder what it would be like, having Even like this. Turns out that somehow, it’s way better than he ever imagined. And, of course it is, because how could he ever imagine something feeling like this? Like fire in his veins, like every single thought in his mind except for _Even Even Even_ being eliminated, like a hunger that he could never satisfy.

When Even shifts over him and his body grinds against Isak, Isak knows that he can’t stop now, even if he wanted to.

(and he doesn’t want to. He really, really doesn’t want to.)

His grip on Even’s hair tightens, teeth catching on to his bottom lip and pulling gently, not getting nearly enough of him.

Even pulls back then, just by an inch. “Isak,” He mumbles breathlessly, caution in his eyes.

Isak shakes his head quickly before he brings Even down for another kiss. “Please,” He breathes against his lips. It sounds desperate, his voice, but Isak doesn’t have it in him to feel embarrassed.

Even, seemingly persistent on talking, for whatever reason, leans his head back once again. “You sure?”

Isak nods, and almost desperately fast so, slides his hands down Even’s torso and tugs at the end of his t-shirt. Even doesn’t decline it this time, leaning back and sitting up on Isak’s legs before he pulls the shirt over his head, leaving his chest bare in front of Isak’s eyes which, for a second Isak thinks that might be enough, thinks he could stare at the beauty that is Even for the rest of the night and be happy.

He doesn’t. A second later he’s sitting up too, removing his t-shirt in one swift movement and then they’re just looking at each other for a second, both of them on the verge of panting and Isak just has to lean forward and attach his lips to Even’s neck, humming against the skin when Even lets out a pleased sound.

The rest happens in a frenzy; Even’s hands roaming over his body, hips rolling against each other, Isak’s breath coming out in gasps. Even’s lips traveling down his stomach until he stops at his jeans, blue eyes looking up at Isak who can’t do anything but nod quickly and then Even presses a final kiss to his skin before his fingers fumble with the zipper of Isak’s jeans.

Then, there’s Even’s head between his legs. Isak has to avert his gaze to the ceiling above him, thinks he’d be done for if he keeps looking down at him. Then there are sounds that Isak can’t hold in any longer, lips parting and small gasps and curse words falling from them again and again, one hand buried in Even’s hair and the other one tugging at the sheet underneath him.

Isak glances down then, which he comes to regret but doesn’t at all at the same time; the sight of Even between his legs takes his breath away. His hands are gripping at Isak’s hipbones, lips swollen and face flushed, but it’s too much at the same time, and the second after he’s arching his back, Even’s name falling from his lips and eyes screwing shut in bliss.

-

After,

(after Even comes up to kiss him and Isak barely has the power to kiss him back, after Isak emerge to the shower to wash off and Even insists he joins him, after they kiss and kiss until Isak kisses down his chest, the hard tiles under his knees a little uncomfortable but feels like absolutely nothing when Even is closing his eyes and leaning back against the tiled wall, sounds leaving his lips that Isak decides are his all-time new favorite, after Even has dragged him up to his feet again to mumble a low _you’re fucking amazing_ against his lips,)

Even’s head is resting on Isak’s chest in the bed, one arm slung over his chest, legs intertwined beneath the sheet and Isak almost forgets that a world outside of this exits.

(sometimes he wishes it didn’t, if he’s being honest.)

“So,” Isak starts, lips brushing against Even’s forehead as he speaks. “You know that Jonas skates, right?”

Even tilts his head up to look at him, eyebrows raised and an amused look in his eyes. “Mhm?”

“Yeah, so, he always talks about these like… cool tricks he does, like 360’s and flips and stuff.”

Even’s expression turns into a mixture of looking horrified and amused. “Don’t tell me you wanna start skateboarding, Isak.” He says warningly, “You know how that turned out when we were kids.”

Isak rolls his eyes. “No,” He says, “Just – shut up.”

Even laughs once, but stays quiet for Isak to continue.

“So, anyway.” Isak says, “That’s how I would describe how my heart feels when I think of you.”

It’s quiet for a second before Even breaks out in a heartwarming laugh against his chest, head tilting up to look at Isak.

Isak grins before he joins in on the laugh. “That’s some romantic shit, right?”

Even is still laughing, smile wide and eyes crinkling at the corners. “Holy shit,” He chuckles, “Isak, I think that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me. You mean your heart does a little 360 ollie kickflip when you think of me?”

“Yeah, that’s exactly what I mean.” Isak grins. “Man, I’ve been trying to come up for so long to describe how you make me feel, turns out Jonas skate talk turned useful.”

Even’s smile doesn’t falter. He leans up, taking Isak’s lips between his own. “You make me feel like that too.” He says against his lips when he pulls away. “Whatever the hardest trick to do on a skateboard is, that’s how you make my heart feel.”

Isak smiles, before he raises his brows. “Wow,” He says in fake annoyance and rolls his eyes. “Come up with your own romantic shit, dude. The skate thing is mine.”

Another chuckle from Even. “Sorry,” He shrugs. “The skate thing was just fucking brilliant.”

Isak smiles and closes the distance between them again before he pulls away to rest his head on the pillow.

“So speaking about Jonas,” He starts.

“Hm?”

“He texted earlier,” Isak says, drawing invisible figures on Even’s back with his finger. “Said there was a Bakka party on Friday. Do you know about that?”

Even hums against his chest. “Yeah,” He replies. “A guy from math class invited me.”

Right. A guy from his math class. Because Even is still in school and Isak still has no idea why.

“Oh,” Isak says, “Are you going?”

Even tilts his head to look up at him. “I don’t know.” He answers. “Are you?”

Isak swallows. Could he? Could he go to a party full of people and be in the same room as Even and still pretend they weren’t anything more than friends?

He shrugs. “I don’t know.” He says. “I haven’t… uh, said anything to anyone yet. About us.”

Even smiles. “I’m sure we could be at the same party without jumping each other's bones, Isak.”

Isak raises his brows at him in disbelief. “Really?”

A laugh leaves Even’s lips. “If I’m on my best behavior, sure.”

Isak shoots him a look. “You never are.”

“I’ll manage one night.” Even laughs. “No, seriously, if you don’t feel comfortable we don’t have to go.”

A pang of guilt hits Isak’s chest at that. It shouldn’t be like this, should it? It’s been a whole fucking month and Isak can’t even reach out to hold Even’s hand in public yet – he can barely relax when they’re in public if he’s being honest, the constant fear that someone could tell just by _looking_ at the two of them is etched in his mind and Isak feels bad, because Even deserves so much more. Someone who can hold his hand and someone he can go to parties with without freaking out.

He sighs. “You don’t have to stay in just because I do, ” He mumbles. “You should go if you want to.”

Even’s hand comes up to graze at his cheek. “You do realize I don’t care about a party, right?” He says, eyes filled with kindness and patience. “I’d rather be with you.”

Even though Even’s soft expression and sincere words are right in front of his face, Isak still feels bad. There’s no part of him that’s ashamed of Even,

(Isak could never be. If he had the guts, he thinks he’d tell the entire world about them, scream his feelings for Even until the whole universe knew.)

but it’s not that simple to tell people about them, and that’s affecting Even too, isn’t it? It makes him lie to his own friends and his family too, and it’s not really anyone else’s fault but Isak’s. It’s getting too much, not just the guilt about lying to his own friends but making Even do the same thing to his own.

“I just…” Isak pauses. He sighs before he continues. “I don’t think I’ll be able to have my friends around me and pretend like, I don’t know, like you and I aren’t what we are.” He admits.

Even hums knowingly. “I get that.” He says. “If you want to go and it feels weird to have me there, I’ll stay home. I don’t mind.”

Isak shakes his head. “No, that’s – I can’t make you do that.” He says. He doesn’t deserve Even being this kind and unselfish to him. He exhales harshly. “I don’t know, maybe… maybe I should tell them. About us.”

“Not if you’re doing it because of me, because I’ve told you that I’ll wait as long as you need, Isak. There’s no rush, you know.”

Isak has to lean down and kiss him at that. “I know, but it’s just -” He cuts himself off with an exasperated sigh. “I’m tired of this, you know?” He confesses. “And it’s not fair to anyone, not to you or my friends.”

Even’s expression softens even further. “If you feel like you want to, then you should.” He says, “But only if you’re doing it for you and no one else.”

And he would be doing it for himself, kind of, because even though it probably makes him selfish, he can’t take the guilt and the hiding much more. Truth is, keeping up a façade the way he’s been doing is fucking exhausting and it’s beginning to feel impossible to do it for any longer.

“I think I should.” He says, tries to sound sure of himself but he’s fairly certain it comes out a little shaky, anyway.

“Yeah?” Even says, and the hope in his voice only makes Isak more determined.

“Yeah.”

Even smiles softly. “Well, whether you do it or not, you should know I’m proud of you.”

For what, Isak can’t understand. He hasn’t done a single thing of bravery that he can remember. He doesn’t question it though, simply smiles and threads his fingers through Even’s hair.

“Maybe…” He starts. “Maybe you could tell your parents then. If you want to.”

Even smiles. “I think they might already know.” He laughs softly. “I haven’t said a thing, but I think it’s just like… motherly intuition, or something.”

Motherly intuition. Right.

(isak doubts his own mother has that. How could she, when they barely know each other anymore?)

“I think you should be with me if I tell them.” Even says.

“Really?”

Even nods. “Mhm.”

A smile makes its way to Isak’s lips. “Alright. We’ll do that sometime, then.”

Even grins. “We’ll do that sometime.”

-

Wednesday, Isak decides. Over a FIFA game and beer, that’s when he’ll talk to Jonas.

-

Isak usually feels like days seem to drag on by in slow motion. Now, however, three days pass by in a second and before Isak has the time to blink, it’s Wednesday.

He’s almost starting to regret it – maybe he hasn’t gotten enough time prepare himself, even though that’s all he’s been doing for the past three days; going over it in his head over and over, imagining Jonas reacting in all kinds of different ways and imagining a response to every single one of them.

Somehow, he manages to ask Jonas in math class and they decide to head over to him after school. It’s the only thing he can seem to think about during the entire day, mind unable to focus on anything else during class, until he’s sitting on Jonas couch.

He does even worse than he usually in FIFA, Jonas crushing him four times in a row.

“How is it even possible that you got _worse_ at this?” Jonas asks after they finish their fourth game, before bringing the beer bottle in his hand to his lips.

“Fuck off.” Isak mutters. “I’m doing it on purpose.”

Jonas shoots him a look of disbelief. “Right.”

They turn quiet. Isak’s been trying to find the right moment since they came here, but it never seems to come. And maybe it won’t either, Isak realizes, maybe he needs to create it himself and stop waiting.

So when Jonas comes back from the kitchen with their second beers, Isak clears his throat.

“It’s been a while since we did this.” He states, picking at the label on the bottle with fidgeting hands.

He’s not looking at Jonas, but he can still make out him nodding at the corner of his eyes. “Yeah, it has.” He agrees. “Man, I feel like I barely see you anymore.”

Familiar guilt washes over Isak. “Yeah, I know.” Isak says, eyes still focused on the bottle in his hands. “Just… it’s been a lot going on.”

“I get that.” Jonas replies understandingly. “Is it… things with your mom, or?” He asks attentively.

Isak swallows harshly. “Yeah it’s -” He cuts himself off with an exhale. “That. Among other things, I guess.”

When he flickers his eyes up, Jonas is looking at him. The expression on his face is patient, but he looks confused, as well.

“Like what?” He asks, eyes not leaving Isak.

He takes a deep breath. In and out. Tries to keep his hands from shaking, his heart loud to his own ears.

“I’ve been… uh,” He swallows again. God, it’s hard. It’s so fucking hard, for some reason. Jonas just waits for him and he looks as patient as ever.

“I like someone.” He says then, the words spilling quickly from his mouth, so fast that Isak isn’t even sure Jonas can hear them. But then there’s a grin on his face, thick eyebrows raising.

“Oh yeah?” Jonas says, grinning still. “That’s awesome, dude.”

Isak’s heart beats faster, the pounding of it in his ears making it hard to focus on the words he has to say. He takes in a deep breath, and then he says “It’s Even.”

He half expects the world to explode.

It doesn’t. His heart beats on, and the look on Jonas face doesn’t change, either. Which – _what_?

“I can see why,” Jonas says without hesitation. “He’s great. Good-looking guy, too.”

Isak is pretty sure he’s frowning, mouth opening and closing because out of all the reactions he’d imagined in his head, this was never an option. Because this – this isn’t even a reaction. This is just – this is just Jonas being his best friend which, should Isak really be that surprised at that? That’s what Jonas always been, after all, the best friend that Isak doesn’t feel he’s been to him.

“Yeah, he’s pretty great.” Isak replies after a moment of silence and shock.

“Good to know that was what’s been keeping you busy.” Jonas grins. “I thought it might’ve been something bad.”

Isak smiles, and it’s genuine. “Yeah.” He says. “But you know, I’m sorry about… being weird and stuff lately. I didn’t really mean to ditch you guys all the time.”

Jonas shrugs. “It’s cool, dude.” He says, “It’s great that you’ve found someone.”

Isak nods. His hands are still shaking, but his heart feels fine. He feels a little lighter, almost.

“And hey,” Jonas nudges him with his shoulder. “Maybe you can start bringing him along now. I’m sure the others would dig him.”

Isak can’t stop the grin tugging at his lips.

“Yeah,” He says. “Maybe I can.”

Right now, that’s never seemed more like a possibility.

-

It’s Thursday when they go over to Even’s parents. Isak reassures Even that he’s fine at least twenty times on their way there, but despite that, he’s pretty sure that Even see through him. The constant tapping of his foot on the tram and the fact that he actually reaches out to hold at Even’s hand tightly when they walk up the stairs to the apartment might be what gives him away.

It happens so fast that Isak barely registers it. They’re helping Even’s parents with their food when Even says “you know how I’ve been spending a lot of time with Isak lately?”

Both of his parents laugh.

“Yes, Even, we’re very aware of that.” His mother laughs when she stirs the pasta on the stove.

“I barely remember your face anymore.” His father adds.

Even looks at Isak, and he’s smiling. How he can smile right now is beyond Isak. He himself feel like he’s about to faint.

“Well,” He starts, loud and clear. “It’s because we’re together.” He announces, placing one of his hand over Isak where it’s resting on the counter.

Isak freezes. He’s aware that Even’s parents are some of the kindest people he knows, but his heart still skips a beat at Even’s words.

His mother turns around then, and Isak half expects to find shock on her face. It's not there, there's only a knowing smile on her face. “And I’m so glad you are.” She says and then leans over to kiss Even’s cheek and then does the same to Isak, who’s rooted to the spot and can’t quite figure out what’s happening around him.

“We’ve been waiting on that for a while now.” His father says, a grin lighting up his face.

Isak glances up at Even, and he’s grinning just as much as they are. Isak seems to be the only one who the information affected. 

Even brings an arm around Isak’s waist, pulling him to his side. “I told you they knew.”

And that’s that, really. It takes a while for Isak to relax, but when he does, his heart flutters in his chest at the thought of being a part of a family that he’s loved his entire life.

-

Later, they’re lying side by side in Even’s bunk bed, fighting for space because the bed is tiny and Even’s legs are longest he’s ever come across.

“Your parents are the best.” Isak mumbles after they found a good position, head resting on Even’s chest and his leg swung over Even’s.

A small laugh leaves Even’s lips. “They think you’re the best, too.”

Isak doubts that, but doesn’t reply. He continues to draw invisible shapes on Even’s stomach, and pulls his brows together in thought.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to tell my parents about us.” He admits, because it’s the first thing on his mind. When he says it, he realizes that he probably shouldn’t have.

Even presses a kiss to his hair. “It’s alright.” He mumbles. “You’ll tell them when you’re ready.”

Isak shuts his eyes. “Or, I could probably tell my dad.” He says when he opens them again, tilting his head to look up at Even. “I don’t think he’d care, honestly.”

(or maybe Isak just doesn’t care what he’d think in the first place.)

Even hums. “But your mother?”

Isak swallows.

Not one part of Isak thinks that’d be possible – not when he spent years with her talking about her faith, not when he’s already a huge disappointment as an excuse for a son.

(like abandoning her and pretending like she doesn’t exist wasn’t already enough, telling her that he’s in love with a boy feels like it would just be the final nail to the coffin.)

Isak averts his gaze from Even’s, focuses on his hand on his chest instead. “I don’t think she’d like me very much if she knew.”

When there’s no response from Even, he looks up. His brows are furrowed together, and he licks his lips carefully before his hand comes up to stroke at Isak’s cheek.

“That sounds impossible.” He whispers then. “Someone not liking you.”

It’s not – Isak knows, he spent years doing it.

He still smiles at Even’s words. “You’re just biased.”

Even cracks a smile. “Maybe.” He says, shrugs his shoulders. “But I have trouble thinking your mother wouldn’t still love you. I’ve met her, you know.”

And while that’s true, Even hasn’t met what his mother is now.

(but has Isak even done that himself? He doesn’t know her anymore. Maybe that’s the problem.)

-

Friday, at lunch, Magnus breaks into the widest grin when Isak tells him he’ll be joining the party.

“Yes!” He cheers. “Dude, we missed having you with us, this is going to be awesome.”

Mahdi nods in agreement. “You might even get to witness Magnus scoring with a girl.” He says, “Did you hear he hooked up with that first-year girl two weeks ago? The short, blonde one.”

Isak raises his brows at Magnus. “Really, now?”

Magnus grins proudly. “I did.” He replies. “And hey, we should totally get you a hook-up tonight. It’s been way too long for you, hasn’t it?”

Isak swallows. Jonas gives him a reassuring look from across the table, silently telling him to let them know. It does feel a little easier since he told him, but that was _Jonas_ and there’s still the feeling of panic rising in his throat at not knowing what his friends are going to say.

“Actually…” Isak pauses and clears his throat. “You know, uh – you remember Even, right?”

Magnus and Mahdi seem to think for a moment, but then the both of them nods.

“Childhood friend, right?” Magnus asks.

Isak nods.

“Yeah, I think I remember him.” Mahdi says, “What about him?”

Isak swallows, takes a deep breath in an attempt to still the anxiousness rushing through him. He glances at Jonas who’s still looking at him with nothing but patience and encouragement in his eyes. Then, he exhales.

“We have a…thing, going on.”

His heart beats impossibly faster in his chest. It’s quiet. No reactions, until Magnus pulls his eyebrows together in confusion.

“A _thing_?” He repeats, eyebrows raised.

Isak exhales, it trembles on it’s way out, and he nods slowly. “A thing.”

“And… he’s a _guy_?”

Isak opens his mouth, not that he’s even sure what he’d say, but Mahdi beats him to it.

“Yes he’s a guy, idiot, Jesus.” He says matter-of-factly, giving Magnus a glare.

The confusion on Magnus’s face doesn’t vanish, if anything, it grows bigger. “So what, are you together or something?”

Isak blinks. He doesn’t quite know the answer to that himself. “Or something, yeah.” He replies, voice unsteady.

He flickers his eyes to Jonas on instinct, and the tiny smile on his face almost looks proud.

“That might explain why you’re the worst wingman ever,” Magnus says then, looking like he’s in the middle of a realization. “You being into dudes, I mean.”

“That’s why you’ve been MIA the last couple of weeks?” Mahdi asks, but he doesn’t sound accusing, only understanding laced within his words.

Isak rubs at the back of his neck. “I guess.” He says, “I know that was really shitty of me. ”

Mahdi smiles brightly. “It’s chill, dude.” He says, “It’d be cool to meet the one who’s been keeping your grumpy ass away from us, though.”

“Uh, _yes_ it would,” Magnus chirps in. “Shit, I can’t believe I’ve got a gay friend now.”

Isak almost corrects him at that, almost tells him _that’s not what I am_. He stops himself, though, figures there’s no meaning in doing it.

“I’ve got to do some research, shit,” Magnus adds.

Jonas brows pull together, and he chuckles. “On _what_?”

Magnus shrugs. “Like, guys having sex and stuff.”

Isak feels his eyes widen, and he’s glad he doesn’t need to respond before a loud sigh comes from Jonas and he pinches the bridge of his nose. “Dude…” He mumbles, shaking his head.

Mahdi screws his face together in confusion. “How’s that any of our business?”

“We talk about sex all the time!” Magnus exclaims in defense. “I’ve got to be able to give some advice if Isak needs it, don’t I?” He says, placing his hand on Isak’s shoulder.

At that, Isak has to let out a laugh.

And things don't feel as bad, anymore. The conversation moves along and the panic eases from Isak’s chest. Getting real, Isak thinks, isn’t as far away as it always used to be.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading, and please let me know if you liked this!! <3


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